Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Silver, Not Gold	By : bookworm810 Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > General Views: 5499 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter Belongs To J.K. Rowling and not to me. I make no profit off this story, so don’t sue. Really, don’t sue, it’ll be a waste of your time anyway seeing as I’m broke.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
WARNING: Very dark and in places very graphic story. If you don’t like, don’t read. You have been warned.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: So sorry about making you all wait so long for an update. I’d like to thank all those readers who have waited so patiently for this chapter. I started a new job a couple of months ago, and haven’t had a great deal of time to write lately. I would like to promise that I’ll update faster in the future, but I don’t want to make promises I might not be able to keep. I will assure you though that I have lots of ideas for this story, and assure you that it’s not disinterest or a lack of inspiration that keeps me from writing, just lack of opportunity to get my thoughts down on paper, though I will try to work on that.

Chapter 3

Almost instantly, the door swang open to reveal a tall older woman who had obviously been waiting for them. Black hair pulled back into a tight bun, immaculate emerald green robes and the stern look on her face all lead to one conclusion in the trio’s minds; this was a woman who could take care of herself and was not someone to cross.

“The firs' years, Professor McGonagall.” Hagrid said, rather unnecessarily as far as the trio – and if they guessed right by the slight twitch of the witch’s face hers as well – opinion. After all, what else would a group of eleven year olds be doing there at this time of night on the first night of the school year.

“Thank you Hagrid, I’ll take it from here.” The now named Professor McGonagall said calmly. After opening the doors wide – a feat she made look surprisingly easy considering how heavy the door look. Probably some kind of magic involved, again Brigid and Bolt couldn’t help but think a little scornfully – McGonagall gestured for the first years to precede her into the largest entrance hall any of them had ever seen or even heard of. It was so huge that Bolt couldn’t help but think that you could fit the entirety of the Dursley house in there, with something of a smirk at the idea of what Vernon would think he knew his whole precious and prefect house could fit into the ‘freak school’s foyer. Not that they seemed to be doing much with it, Bolt couldn’t help but note, looking at the bare walls save the torches burning merrily away on the walls. This was just his experience, but as far as Bolt knew most muggle schools would use such a place as somewhere to showcase awards and pictures from important events in their schools’ history. A way to show off how great the school was before you even got into the school. Bolt however just mentally shrugged, the magical world obviously did things differently, and besides the place was so large that they would no doubt have trouble filling all of it up with such frivolous things no matter how old the school was. Wasn’t like it was that important anyway, and besides McGonagall looked like she was about to start talking so he’d better may attention.

McGonagall looked over the new students with something of fondness, thinking how much she loved her job and how well she hoped these new students would do over their seven years here. As usual, most of them seemed to be grouping together more tightly that they would under normal circumstances, no doubt out of nerves she thought with amusement as she remember feeling the same all those years ago when she first started at Hogwarts. So long ago, yet somethings never change. She did notice three students, two boys and a girl, standing a little apart from the others. However she simply shrugged it off as them a little shy, you got those every now and then after all, hopefully soon they would happily merge into their new house and make the kinds of friends she hoped for all of her students to find. McGonagall allowed none of these thoughts to show on her face of course, carefully maintaining her stern façade. If she wanted these students to respect her authority as their teacher and deputy headmistress, she needed to set the tone right from the beginning, otherwise they would likely try to walk all over her – kind of like a certain pair of red-headed horrors she knew only too well (and who she would never, as long as she lived, admit she was secretly fond of and amused by).

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” McGonagall said calmly so as not to frighten the new and already nervous students too much, carefully projecting her voice so that everyone could hear her. She had this speech memorised, as she gave it every year. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, 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 your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

McGonagall couldn’t help but let her eyes linger somewhat disapprovingly on the red-headed boy with the slight smug on his nose and the round face blond who somehow had managed to fastened under his left ear. How on Earth did he manage that? She also looked somewhat disapprovingly on the bandana the long haired boy in the back wore, which she felt was in somewhat bad taste, however it was not officially against the dress code, so she didn’t say anything.

“I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly.” McGonagall mentally snorted to herself. A group of nervous eleven year old left in a strange place with no adult supervision? Wait quietly. Yeah right. Oh well, she just hoped there wasn’t a fight while she was gone like what had happen between James Potter and Severus Snape when they were first years. their relationship never did get any better either, McGonagall thought sadly as she left the room. There was no point standing here reminiscing over the past, she needed to get the Sorting Hat ready so that the new students could get sorted as quickly as possible – and so the older students didn’t start a mutiny over the delay in their dinner.

While the other students milled around talking in nervous, hushed whispers, the trio turned to look at each other with slight exasperation about how seriously the other students seemed to be taking the sorting. Really, what was the big deal? Bolt and Brigid couldn’t understand why they were getting so fussed. After all, all four houses would be taught the same stuff anyway, and it wasn’t like there was a rule somewhere that said you had to be friends with the people in your house only, so what was the big deal. The two of them were pretty much indifferent to this whole Sorting thing.

Burn on the other hand, was concerned about the Sorting. However, unlike the rest of these sheep… ah, students… he had perfectly valid reasons to be. These kids were mostly worried about looking good when they thought of which House they would go into. Burn on the other hand was worried about how reachable his future House would leave him to his fucking rapist of an older brother. Personally, Burn figured he had the better reason.

“So.” Brigid sighed, looking annoyed. “Just out of morbid curiosity, how are we Sorted? Is there any validation to all this panic?”

Bolt just shrugged, as he had no more idea than Brigid, and the two turned to look at Burn, the only one of the three who had been raised in a Wizarding household and might have some idea.

Burn however snorted. “I have no clue, most Pureblood families won’t tell their kids before they come here. Supposed to add to the great mystery that is Hogwarts I guess. Neither my parents or my brothers that I asked would tell me. Well, not any real answers anyway. Bloody Fred and George told this fucking ridiculous story about having the wrestle a troll, but I’m sure that that was just another dumb attempt at making me look like an idiot in front of the rest of the first years. Those two think they're so funny.”

Bolt and Brigid rolled their eyes at that. Figures.

“Oh well, it can’t be that big a deal if they want eleven year olds who have never used magic before to do it.” Brigid said, sounding both logical and bored. “Probably some kind of personality test or something, I guess. I mean, with Gryffindor being called the House of the Brave, and Hufflepuff the House of the Loyal, and all that other crap.”

Before either of the other two could say anything else, however, something happened which drove all thought of the Sorting or anything else completely out of their minds for the moment.

Several people behind them screamed, sounding for all the world like the world was ending. More than as little alarmed by this, all three span around with the hearting in their throats, desperately looking for this new threat they would have to face. Only to stop and stare with something or disbelief when they saw what all the fuss was about.

“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 and you know, he's not really even a ghost… I say, what are you all doing here?”

‘Ghosts,’ Burn thought in disgust at his fellow student’s reaction. ‘All that fuss over a few measly Ghosts. Bloody hell, it wasn’t even a ghoul, or that stupid poltergeist I heard hangs around Hogwarts. No, my fellow first-years have to have a fucking panic attack about the ghosts turning up. Shit, how the hell did I end up in the same year as so many losers?”

Burn sighed to himself, turning to look at Bolt and Brigid to share his feelings, only to be surprised into silence by his friends’ reactions. They were looking at the ghosts as well, surprised and a little wary. Although it was a far step up from the screaming of the other students, Burn couldn’t understand why. He had thought the two of them were braver than that, it was only ghosts after all. Unless…

Burn felt the urge to hit himself over the head as he realised. Of course, Bolt and Brigid were both raised by Muggles, and Muggles didn’t understand about ghosts besides a few folk tales and the like, and even those were usually very, very wrong. Burn could vaguely remember the twins laughing over some ridiculous Muggle story – a movie he thought it was called - they’d heard about somewhere about a ghost of some guy who killed people in their dreams. Bolt and Brigid weren’t cowards like the rest of these idiots, they simply didn’t yet realise that ghosts weren’t anything to fear. They were already handling the ghost sudden appearance pretty well when you took their luck of understanding into consideration, Burn guessed, but he figured he had better enlighten them about how incredibly harmless ghosts were before this went on any rather.

“Ghosts are harmless,” Burn said to them calmly, making sure to keep his voice low so that none of the suck up Purebloods – like that idiot Malfoy – could overhear him and try to use what he was saying against his friends later. Not that he figured they would when so many other students were acting so much worse, but better safe than sorry. “Their completely intangible, can’t interact with this plane other than being seen on it. I mean, I heard that a ghost that’s being extremely emotional can do a little bit, but nothing with anything solid. Just make the wind blow a bit, or if they’re really upset slash some water and stuff, but that’s it. For the most part, all a ghost can do is make you feel cold by floating through you.”

As Burn had suspected would happen, by the time he was done with his second sentence both Bolt and Brigid had calmed down, and by the time he was done speaking looked a mix of annoyed – both with their own fear, now that they knew it was pointless, and the overblown reactions of their future classmates – and curious about what Burn was saying.

Burn at that moment realised that Bolt and Brigid, while they were already showing to be pretty damn smart about some things were quite out of their depths when it came to many things that Wizards took for granted. Then and there, Burn made a promise to himself to try and get Bolt and Brigid up to date on Wizarding culture as soon as possible, before Malfoy and others like him realised that they might have a somewhat easy mark in his friends. If the two of them had as much potential as Burn thought they had it would be a shame to see it wasted over something as trivial as lack of Wizarding etiquette. And who knows, maybe some day Burn would have to know how to get by in the Muggle world, and Bolt and Brigid would return the favour and get him up to date.

Meanwhile, another concern had popped up. Now that the other students were getting over their fear of the ghosts, they were starting to mill around looking to ask them questions about a variety of topics. Hogwarts, the four Houses, and the ghost themselves were just a few of the topics that could be heard being shouted out by curious first-years who were getting louder and louder in their quests to be heard over the din, while the ghosts just lapped up the attention. The trio guessed that for most of the older students the novelty of the ghosts had worn off, and that this was the most attention said ghosts had had in a while. Since the three of them were near the back, they were suddenly surrounded on all sides as the other students tried to get as close to the ghosts as they could to get their questions answered first.

This was not something that any of them were happy about.

Bolt still had fresh wounds that were not dealing at all well with people continually bumping into him, and more than once his only long fought for tolerance for pain stoped him from crying out as his back or ribs were unknowingly abused by his soon-to-be classmates.

Burn, understandably had developed a real aversion to touch other the last few months. After his brother’s repeated attacks, he could barely stand to have most people around him let alone touching him, even people he trusted. Being pressed in on all sides by strangers was not doing his nerves any good at all, and he wanted nothing more than to run away and hide somewhere until they were all gone.

Brigid wasn’t quite as reluctant to accept another’s touch as the boys, but she still was not by any means a touchy-feely type of girl. She much preferred to have her own space, something she was in no way getting at the moment. Plus, the rest of the students were being so rude too. Not caring for the fact that they kept bumping and pushing each other, and certainly not apologising for it either. From the corner of her eye, Brigid noticed a round face boy actually being knocked to the ground, yet the imbecile who knocked him over didn’t even turn to see if he was okay, let alone help him up or apologise. Okay, Brigid also saw that said boy quickly got up okay, proving that he wasn’t hurt, but still it was the principle of the thing! Really, were her fellow students raised in barn or something, because most of them seemed to be acting no better than animals!

Quickly getting annoyed with this, three quickly looked around for a way out of the mess. Fortunately, Bolt soon spotted it and quickly gestured the others to follow him. The others weren’t sure where Bolt was going, but if it got them out of that mess they were more than willing to follow the black-haired boy.

Surprisingly soon, the three were out of the crowd, though not alone. They were now in one of the far corners or the room, which currently contained only one occupant. Said occupant was the only ghost in the room not being hounded by the first-years, although he in no way looked upset about it. In fact, if anything he looked disgusted with his fellow ghosts behaviour, as if the playing up to the crowd the other ghosts were participating in was beneath him. The trio thought could understand why he was being given such a wide berth, even by his fellow ghosts. The look on his face, when combined with his gaunt face, black stare and expensive looking transparent robes covered with what looked like silver blood gave him a truly imitating appearance, quite unlike the rest of the ghosts who were floating around the room.

“I think I know who that is.” Burn said lowly, so as not to be overheard and accidentally insult the fearsome looking ghost. “I think that’s the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin Houses’ main ghost. My brother’s told me about him, he’s the most stand offish ghost here at Hogwarts, but the most respected as well. No one wants to get on the Bloody Baron’s bad side.”

“Well then.” Brigid said, seemingly up for a challenge. “We’ll just have to see if we can get on his good side. Follow my lead for a moment boys.”

With that, Brigid walked forward calmly and confidently, though she somehow managed to avoid looking haughty. After exchanging a quick sideways glance at each other, Bolt and Burn followed, hoping that Brigid knew what she was doing.

The Bloody Baron turned his blank staring eyes on the trio as they came closer, seemingly daring them to start shouting questions at him like the other students were doing with his peers. However, to his obvious surprise Brigid stopped a fair distance from the ghost and pulled off a fairly elegant curtsy. A second later, Brigid was pleased to see out of the corners of her eyes Bolt and Burn preforming their own bows, pleased that the boys were indeed following her lead.

“Good evening sir.” Brigid said formally as she rose from her curtsy. “Would you allow the three of us to share your corner for a while. For as much as I do not wish to speak ill of my peers, it currently appears that many of them are lacking in manners, and we wish to escape their folly while we are waiting to be sorted.”

Brigid noticed happily that the Bloody Baron seemed rather impressed by her speech, not to mention approving of her reasoning, and inwardly smirked to herself. Who would have thought that those damn charm school classes her parents had made her take in another attempt to make her seem like a the ‘prefect daughter’ would accomplish anything more than freak out the teachers with the way she dressed and acted.

“You may young lady.” The Baron said generally, the empty look leaving his eyes slightly as he studied the three with seeming interest. “If I may say so, you and your two companions are the most civilised first-years I have seen in a great many years. What names do you go by?”

“My name is Hermione Granger, sir, though I go as Brigid to those I call friend. I would be honoured if you would permit me to call you one.” Brigid said with another curtsy.

“Ronald Weasley, sir, I am also known as Burn. It is an honour to make your acquaintance.” Burn said with a bow, finding himself surprisingly sincere in his words. The Bloody Baron was quickly proving himself to be a real gentleman, quite unlike the horrifying apparition he had always assumed from his brother’s stories/

“I am Harry Potter, sir, but please refer to me as Bolt. Harry Potter is a name I am quickly finding is all too well known to the Wizarding world, and people who hear it incorrectly assume that they know me as well. I find I am nothing like their expectations, yet they do not wish to know differently.” Bolt answered, his voice polite but firm as his bowed.

The Baron nodded knowingly at Bolt’s answer. “Yes, far to often I have seen my fellow Wizards fall into the disgraceful habit of taking the word of heresy as Merlin’s own truth. It is sadly a trait that has only increased over the centuries. I myself have heard tale of you young Bolt, and already I can see that they are very much mistaken. I hope I will be given the opportunity to get to know the real you behind the famous scar during your years here.”

The Baron took a moment to study Burn and Brigid thoughtfully before he continued speaking.

“I have also heard much of the Weasley clan, and have had the opportunity to know many of your family members during their time at school though admittedly not as well as many of the other ghosts here. I assume that is also in part why you have chosen to create your own identity, one which will not automatically make people think of those who came before you yes?”

Burn nodded, and the Baron looked slightly pleased at guessing correctly.

“As for you, my dear lady, I hope I do not offend you but are you a first generation witch?” At Brigid’s somewhat wary nod, the Baron continued, his voice surprising void of the derision for muggleborns his house was so famous. “Do you then wish to rise above such prejudice and prove that you are every bit as deserving of your power as any self-satisfied pureblood?”

“Yes sir.” Brigid said, somewhat hesitantly. “If I may ask…”

“Why am I not more contemptuous of you, considering I am the mascot ghost for the House of Pureblood Supremacy?” The Baron asked, looking and sounding far more amused than Burn was sure his family would have believed him capable of being. “Because I dear girl I have been a ghost here at this school since almost it’s founding, and I was a student at it’s founding. And I can tell you now with all honesty that those who say that being a Pureblood makes you more worthy of magic are, if you pardon my language, full of Hippogriff dung. Some of the most powerful wizards and witches who have come out of this school have been first generation, while many of the weakest have come from lines that are considered the purest of the pure.

Indeed, the obsession that many families have gained with keeping their lines pure have done far more harm than they realise, as generations of inbreeding have left far too many witches barren, diminished many wizard’s mental capacity, weaken the magic of entire families. Take the Black family, for interest. Such a sad fate to befall a once noble house. For generations they have been among the worst of our kind when it comes to inbreeding, marrying their own cousins to keep Muggle blood from ‘tainting’ their veins and look where it has lead them. Insanity runs rampant through out the line, with more squibs being born to the line in the last century than there have been wizards. At least it is rumoured they were squibs, as every one of them seemed to meet an unfortunate ‘accident’ before a Hogwart’s letter could be sent out to confirm or deny their magic. And with all that, look at what is left. Only four, technically five I suppose, are left alive now. Two are serving life sentences in Azkaban Wizarding Prison, one of who is suspected in insane while the other certainly is. One other is married to a man whom, while I do not wish to speak ill of without proof, I am sure took the coward’s way out and brought his way out of prison. As for the third, the only one who showed any real sense of honour or power, she was disowned when she refused to go through with the marriage her deranged parents arranged for her. Instead she followed her heart and married a first generation wizard. Through their union came a witch who may very well be the most powerful Metemorph born in the last century, but because she is not ‘pure’ is denied any access to her maternal family’s legacy. You might get the opportunity to meet the young lady yourselves, she is currently her final year here, a Hufflepuff I believe. She is somewhat clumsy, an regrettable trait many with her power have which fortunately most grow out of with time, but she is indeed a powerful witch.”

The Baron sighed sadly at this. “The majority of Pureblood do not wish to know this, despite the evidence staring them right in the face. All one as to do is look at birth records for Pureblood over the last few centuries to see that their has been a dramatic decrease in Wizarding children and an increase in squib being born, in direct correlation to the amount of inbreeding taking place within the Pureblood families. They do not wish to know that it is their own obsessions that are bring so much strife to our society and instead choose to lay blame on those of the first generation who are new to the society and less able to defend themselves against those who are born to positions of power. Though, I should not say all Purebloods are like that. The Weasley clan for example,” Here the Baron paused to bow slightly in acknowledgement in Burn’s direction. “Have always been very careful not to partake in inbreeding and more than is unavoidable in a society as small as our. First generation witches and wizards are often welcomes into the family, and when marries a Pureblood I have happily noticed that they are far enough removed to avoid the worst of the problems. It is, at least the part, the reason that your family is currently the amongst the largest in Wizarding Britain. Your mother’s family, the Prewetts, I am sad to say are not so enlightened ad the Weasley’s though I will admit they are a far step above those such as the Crabbs and the Goyels. Really, you think my now those familles would have realised that their’s something wrong with that peculiar gene pool, but then again I suppose that thinking has become a rather difficult task for many of them by this point.”

The Baron suddenly seemed to realise what he had said, and looked embarrassed by his words though the trio didn’t hold any of it against him. He was only speaking of what the three could see was a genuine concern of his, after all. Nether the less, the Baron seemed to want to change the subject.

“But listen to me, carrying on about this when I’m sure such young and intelligent children have better things to do than listen to an old ghost prattle on.”

“On the contrary sir, it was very enlightening.” Brigid said. “Such topics are taboo in what is considered by wizards to be polite society, and thus it is unlikely we would hear any of that unless we deliberately went out searching for it. And if I may say so sir, it is indeed something that should be brought to more wizards attention.”

“Indeed.” Burn said nodding. “I have heard for years that the population of the wizarding world has been going down in recent years, but even my parents as enlightened as they may be in some things, are still under the impression that most of the problem stems from how many lives were lost in the war. They would be shocked by your words, however well reasoned they may be.”

“It was very interesting listening to you sir.” Bolt added. “You would make an excellent teacher.”

The Baron looked equally parts embarrassed and pleased by that, but before he could say anything in return another sharp voice called out.

“Move along now," McGonagall had returned, and looked none too impressed the commotion the ghosts had unwittingly caused. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start.”

The students quickly filled out of the room, all save the trio looking terrified once more. Just as they were about to join the end of the procession they paused as the Baron called out their names.

“I hope to see you in the noble House of Slytherin, dear children.” He said formally. “But even if I do not, I hope you shall come and see me sometimes. I would much appreciate some more civilised conversation.”

The three quickly bowed or curtsied in turn before hurrying over and through the doorway which the other students had exited, past a somewhat flabbergasted McGonagall who could not remember the last time the Bloody Baron had spoken like to a new student, or anyone for that matter. What had those three done to make such an impression?

Even the most jaded of students quickly found they could not help but be impressed by the Great Hall. While the entrance hall might have been huge the Great Hall certainly lived up to it name as it was simply enormous and could easily have held many times the amounts of students that it did. And, the three reflected, if what the Baron had said was accurate and they had no reason to doubt him, it should have. Hundreds of candles floated above four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting in front of golden plates and goblets that glittered in the light. At another long table at the far end of the room, this one sitting above the others on a dais, sat who could only be the teachers. The ghosts had evidently been in a hurry to not miss anything because it seemed that they were all already in the Hall, their slivery glows standing out quite dramatic in the candle and lantern light.

A gasp from one of the other students caused the majority of the new students – including the trio who were somewhat exasperated to find out what was the fuss about this time – to look up. The ceiling was a velvety black dotted with stars, making to appear that there was no ceiling and that the roof simply opened up o the heavens.

“It’s…” Brigid started to say before Burn interrupted her.

“Bewitched to look like the sky outside. I know Brigid, I heard Hogwarts a History too, and I’m pretty sure Bolt has too.”

Bolt simply nodded in confirmation to Burn’s statement, unable to keep the smirk off his face at Brigid’s annoyed huff. If he wasn’t so good at hiding his emotions he would have laughed, the affronted look on her face was so amusing.

The three however quickly turned their attention back to McGonagall when she set down a four-legged stool in front of the first years and placed in it a very dirty and ragged hat. Bolt couldn’t help but snort as he almost instinctively thought of his aunt reaction should she see it. No doubt she would never have let it into the house, even it should not prove to me magical as Bolt suspected it was.

As if to prove that Bolt’s thoughts were correct, as soon as said thought had crossed Bolt’s mind a long rip opened up in the brim like a mouth and the hat began to sing. Badly, true, but still.

Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!”

As the hat finished singing the Hall burst out into applause, as was obviously expected. However, with some of the new students also joined in clapping on reflex, their minds were busy panicking. The hat read their thought? They didn’t want anyone, talking hat or otherwise to read their thoughts! What if it told others what had happened to them, what if it told the whole their secrets. However, before they could think of a way out of this, if there even was one, McGonagall started reading out names to be sorted and a young girl with blond pigtails ran forward to put the hat on. When the hat simply yelled out the name of the house she was to go in without saying anything else they were rather relieved, doubly so when the hat repeated the process with the following students though they knew they would not be fully at ease until this was over and they knew for a fact that their secrets would stay safe.

While the students all clapped politely when a new student was Sorted into their house, Bolt, Burn and Brigid couldn’t help but notice that the students and the teachers seemed to be expecting certain students, most likely because of what they knew or thought they knew of their families. Muggleborns were a little trickier to guess, of course, but it seemed that as long as they went into Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or the odd Ravenclaw that no one was going to put up much of a fuss.

It wasn’t until they got to the G’s and it was Brigid’s turn that things started to go not according to plan. As soon as Brigid’s name was called, she walked forward with her head held high, showing neither the excitement nor the fear that the other first years before her had as she calmly sat on the stool and confidently placed the Sorting Hat on her head. Almost at once, she heard the hat’s voice again, though this time it was as if the hat was whispering right in her ear. She was sure that no one, not even McGonagall who was standing right next to her would be able to overhear the Hat, which she was rather pleased about considering what it was saying.

“Well, now, aren’t you an interesting one.” The Hat said softly. “A Muggleborn, but certainly not a one of the typical Muggleborns who come to me all scared and overwhelmed by this new world they’ve found themselves in. you’re quite as brave one, yet not foolhardy like so many Gryffindors are. Intelligent too, very intelligent, yet not for the sake of knowledge itself, at least not anymore though maybe you did once. No, you seek power, my such desire and all of it steming for such a depressing place. You may wish to tell one of the teachers about your home life my dear, they would no doubt try to help you.”

“What the hell would they do?” Brigid demanded, annoyed that the Hat was sticking it’s none existent nose where it didn’t belong. “It’s not like they’ve done anything illegal or anything, just being bloody annoying people. All that telling anyone will do will get me pitied, and I bloody well don’t want that, so you better keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.”

Brigid was sure that the Hat sighed sadly at that. “Do not concern yourself, I am forbidden by the very magic that created me from revealing what I see unless the student I am to sort is planning to hurt those entering or are already in the school, your secrets are safe with me. For the record I believe that you are wrong about telling others about your home life, but it is your decision to tell or not. Anyway, back to the reason why we are here, well with such ambition there is only one lace for you. And with that in mind, good luck in SLYTHERIN”

The last word was not whispered but shouted loud enough for the whole Hall to hear. As Brigid took the hat off and started walking towards her new House’s table, whispers broke out all over the Hall, which she deliberately ignored. Seeing as there were quite a few empty places near where the Bloody Baron was sitting, Brigid choose a spot near him, giving the ghost a polite nod as she did so which was returned. For a moment, Brigid considered going back to reading the book in her hand, but after a moment of deliberation she turned her attention back to the Sorting. She figured she might was well at least pretend to be interested for the moment. Besides, she wanted to see where Bolt and Burn would end up.

“What the hell, isn’t she a Muggleborn?”

“Poor girl, they’ll eat her alive in there.”

“Bloody hell, now even Slytherin is being invaded by their kind? Damn this school really is going to the dogs.”

Back in line, Bolt and Burn exchanged a quick smirk. Somehow they weren’t surprised that Brigid had ended up in the Snake Pit. They also didn’t doubt that if any Muggleborn could handle being in Slytherin, it would be her.

Eventually the whispers died down and McGonagall – who had appeared to be almost as shocked as the students – called out the next name on the list.

The next upset happened when they got to the L’s. When Neville Longbottom was called first he tripped over on the way to the stool, making the majority of the Hall laugh and the trio frown when none of the teachers did anything to stop it. But the real shock came when, after several minutes or sitting there the Hat suddenly opened it mouth to shout out it’s answer.

“SLYTHERIN!”

There was instant silent for a long moment before whispers once broke out all over the hall.

“A Longbottom in Slytherin?”

“There’s got to be a mistake, right?”

Neville seemed to be too shocked to move for a few minutes, and in the end McGonagall had to gently shoo him over to his house table. The boy went, looking for all the world like a condemned man going to the gallows.

“Bloody Hell, I didn’t expect that.” Burn muttered lowly enough that only Bolt heard him. “The current Lady Longbottom’s a real hard ass, and dead set against anything Slytherin or dark… and in her mind they mean the same thing. Damn, she is going to be pissed when she hears this, no wonder he looked so upset.”

Bolt nodded slightly as his eyes followed the Longbottom boy to where he sat at the far end of the table, away from the rest of his Housemates. From the look of thing, the boy was praying that this was all a dream and that he would wake up soon. For a moment Bolt felt the strong urge to go over and comfort him, before McGonagall called out the next name and Bolt turned his attention back to the Sorting and forced the feeling from his mind. He hadn’t gone soft, and if the Longbottom boy was too weak to handle this that was his problem. So his family would disapprove of his house, they’d get over it, it wasn’t that big a deal right?

Draco Malfoy was called soon after. The Hat had barely touched his head before it screamed “SLYTHERIN”, and the smirking boy strutted over to the correct table like being chosen for the House of Snakes was the greatest achievement in the whole world.

The trio – though none of them were looking at each other and thus didn’t know – collectively rolled their eyes at that. What an ego!

When McGonagall got to the ‘P’s and called out “Potter, Harry”, Bolt was notably unsurpised when little whispers broke out all over the Hall, and barely resisted the urge to sigh as he walked forward.

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

As the Hat feel over his eyes, and the last sight he saw was what appeared to be the entirety of the school’s population craning to get a good look at him, Bolt gave in and let out a loud sigh of annoyance. Bloody wizards really needed to learn to mind their own business.

“Quite true that, wizards as a whole seem to be real gossips I’ve noticed, and it only seems to get worse as the years go by.” The Hat said softly. “They really need to find some other form of entertainment, maybe someone should create something like that TV I’ve heard so much about from the Muggleborns I’ve sorted over the last few decades. Anyway, on with your Sorting shall we Mr. Potter. Let’s see, you’re another interesting one, there seem to be quite a few of you this year. Intelligent, just like your friend was, and just like her you seek knowledge mostly to further your own goals, though from what I’ve can see you can not be faulted for that with what you have had to struggle against for so long. Very brave, but your bravery is tempered by caution, something you were required to learn. While you seem to look out only for yourself, you are extremely loyal to those who earn it, but not many get that opportunity with you. You have a great deal of ambition, obviously and are extremely cunning. Cunning was no doubt a necessity with a family like your’s.”

“We may share blood, but they are not my family, got it Hat?” Bolt mentally growled. “And don’t you bloody tell anyone about that either unless you want to test whether or not you’re flammable, got that?”

The Hat gave what could only be a sigh at that. “Why must all the interesting ones threaten me? I won’t tell anyone boy, though I will say that you should if only to your friends. I do not doubt that Miss Granger at least would understand and from what I’ve seen of him from your and her minds, I believe Mr Weasley will as well. As for your Sorting, there can only be one place for you my boy, so you best go join your friend in SLYTHERIN”

The reactions of the students at this made what happened after Brigid and Longbottom’s Sortings look like nothing as the hall exploded into noise.

“What the bloody hell, did I hear that right? Did the Hat really say Slytherin?”

“Harry Potter in Slytherin, no fucking way!”

“Has he gone Dark?”

“Maybe he’s in league with You-Know-Who!”

Bolt ignored the comments as best he could when the majority of them were yelled out as loud as possible. He paused a moment to glance at the Head Table, his eyes seeking out Hagrid. The gentle giant-like man was frowning at first, but it appeared to be more surprise than disapproval and when he noticed that Bolt was looking at him he smiled encouragingly. Bolt felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had liked the man in the short time he had known him, even if he didn’t connect with him in the weird and strangely wonderful way he had with Burn and Brigid, but the man’s distaste for Slytherin had been obvious during their trip to Diagon Alley. It was nice to know that the man didn’t seem to want to cut all ties with him after his Sorting.

Taking a seat next to Brigid, Bolt managed to summon up a small yet real smile for her before both turned their attention back to the Sorting that McGonagall was trying to get back underway as they waited to see if their third would be in their house or if he would be sorted into another. They doubted that would happen, but you never knew.

McGonagall was in something close to shock by this point, not to mention she was getting a headache from all the noise that keep breaking out all over the Great Hall. First Longbottom then Potter, both of whom she had been so sure would be in her house like their parents had been sent to Slytherin. Not to mention that Granger girl. Now, McGonagall had never been one of those who believed that all Slytherins were evil or anything, but even she could not deny that a lot of members from that House did have quite the reputation and that many of them could be very nasty when it suited them. Not to mention of course their apparent stance on Blood Purity, even though nothing official was mention about that when one talked about the House’s traits. It was enough to make her head spin, and she really hoped there wouldn’t be any more surprises tonight. Fortunately, there were only a few names left on the list.

“Weasley, Ronald.” She called out the second to last name in private relief as her eyes fell on the boy. At least there shouldn’t be any surprises here, another Weasley for her House. Though she knew she would have to keep an eye on this one. She’d received letters from the boy’s parents and oldest two brothers during the summer. All were concerned about what was apparently a dramatic change in personality in the last few months and were afraid of what could have caused it. McGongall had to admit the boy did seem different than his brothers were when they were that age, his eyes seemed colder and more mature, and he looked rather pale. Promising herself that she would keep a close eye on him this year, McGonagall gently placed the Hat on the head of the boy she was sure would be her newest Lion.

“Another Weasley, hmm.” The Hat said softly in Burn’s ear. “Nut, oh dear, you are very different compared to your brothers and with good reason! Oh deary me, I did not expect this. I saw that there was darkness within you brother when in first sorted him, but I never thought he would do anything like this.”

“Please don’t say anything!” Burn mentally screamed. “Please don’t I don’t want anyone to know.”

The Hat sounded sad as he answered. “My boy, I can’t say anything, the magic that created me forbids it. But I must admit, I wish I could in this case, your deserves to be sent o Azkaban, at the very least for his crimes!”

“Maybe he does, but no one would believe me if I told, and I don’t want my family thinking of me as some kind of whore! Look, will you just Sort me already. I’ll go anywhere you want, just please, don’t put me in Gryffindor. I, I can’t survive there” Burn was very grateful that no one but the Hat could hear him begging, and from what the Hat had already said would not be able to tell anyone about it.

“I believe you are underestimating your family, dear boy. Most of your family anyway. You should tell them, if only to protect that sister of your, which I know you wish to do. But for your Sorting, of course I will not place you in Gryffindor, though I assure you, you have more than enough courage to qualify for the House of the Lions in other circumstances. Only those were real courage could go through what you have and not break from it. As for loyalty, you have much of that too, for those who deserve it. The fact that you still love and wish to protect the rest of your family, asides from that scum who is not fit to call himself your brother, speaks volumes to that. Quite the mind too, when you have the motivation to use it, and I see you are quite the strategist. But, no, I do not believe that either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw are the correct House for you. No my boy, I believe the best place for you is with your friends in the House of SLYTHERIN!”

More relieved than Burn knew he’d ever be able to put into words, He quickly got up and started towards where Bolt and Brigid were sitting before the Hat could change his mind. He ignored the startled exclamations that had once again broken out throughout the Great Hall, they were becoming rather commonplace by this point anyway. However, he was unable to resist the urge to glance over to the Gryffindor table to see how his brothers were handling this news.

Fred and George had looks of complete open-mouthed disbelief on their faces that under normal circumstances Burn would have found very funny indeed. They couldn’t have looked more shocked if he had suddenly turned bright orange and sprouted horns – Hmm, then again, if that had happened they would most likely be responsible and not be surprised at all. Anyway… – however, Burn was relieved to note that despite their shock, there was no anger of disgust in their eyes. And while he knew that that might change later, for the moment at least Burn clung to the hope that the twins wouldn’t hate him for becoming a Snake. He’d already lost Percy, he didn’t want to lose any more of his brothers.

However, any almost happiness Burn was feeling was quickly washed away when his eyes unfortunately caught that of Percy, who was sitting a few places down the table from the twins. The look of complete and utter rage, and the promise of retribution was enough to send a chill down Burn’s spine, and he quickly looked away. That look was enough to tell Burn that Percy was not about to give up just because he was in another House, and that he would need to be careful even in Slytherin. Still, at least there was some distance between them now, and hopefully Burn would be able to come up with another plan to keep his ‘brother’ away before he would have the opportunity to get his hands on him again. With that thought firmly in mind, Burn renewed his promise to get stronger and sat down next to Bolt and Brigid, forcing any trace of fear from his face and his thoughts.

Back in the middle of the Great Hall, McGonagall was in a state of shock as she called out ‘Zabini, Bliase’. The boy was also Sorted into Slytherin, though at that point the poor Tranfiguration teacher wouldn’t have been able to tell you that if her life depended on it.

Slytherin. A Weasley was in Slytherin, when the while family had been in Gryffindor basically since there was a Gryffindor to be in. And a Potter, and a Longbottom, and a Muggleborn girl. McGonagall couldn’t have been more shocked if Merlin himself had walked into the hall and cast Stupify on her. Never in a million years would she of expected this, and all this was on top of dealing with the sheer disbelief that Dumbledore had decided to keep that in the school this year, despite the protests of herself and many of the other teachers.

One thing was for certain, this was going to be a very interesting year. McGonagall just hoped that her heart could handle it.
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Silver, Not Gold