Chapter 6. The Sorting.
"What is going on here?!"
McGonagall swept into the antechamber with a stern exclamation and looked around at everyone present. Her gaze settled on Weasley.
"Mr. Weasley, what on earth has happened to you?"
A faint note of distaste had crept into the strict Head of House's voice. The sight of her future student was clearly not a pleasant one.
"It's all that Death Eater-bred filth!"
He jabbed a finger in my direction.
I frowned. The boy had learned nothing.
"Professor McGonagall, I would like to address you as a representative of the Hogwarts administration and formally notify you..."
My voice was laden with cold formality, and the children around us fell quiet.
"...this particular member of the Weasley family has now insulted my family for the second time, and I, as the sole male of that family, will be compelled to challenge him to a duel if it happens a third time. And believe me, neither Mr. Weasley, nor his family, nor you as a representative of the Hogwarts administration will be pleased with the outcome of that duel. I therefore request that measures be taken to ensure this specific red-haired individual learns to keep his tongue under control."
"Mr.... Black..."
McGonagall gave me a careful, appraising look.
"...so it is you who is responsible for Mr. Weasley's current condition?"
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"His condition is the responsibility of his own unruly tongue, and I believe everyone present — including his newly acquired friend — will confirm that the insult to my family came first, and only after that did I act. And believe me, neither the loss of points nor the threat of expulsion will stop me from defending the honor of my family."
"Some family that is..."
I narrowed my eyes slightly, and McGonagall, seeing what was about to happen, placed a Silencing Charm on Weasley.
"I take it the previous incident unfolded in much the same way?"
She looked around at everyone present.
"Yes, Professor."
Hermione stepped forward, but Daphne placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped her from saying more.
"Miss Granger..."
"Yes, Professor."
After a brief nod from Daphne she answered the professor.
"Hmm... Very well. Can anyone else confirm that Mr. Black was not the one who initiated the conflict?"
"Ahem..."
This I had not expected — the attention of the Wizarding World's hero was drawn by a quiet, very uncertain little cough.
"Yes, Mr....?"
"Potter..."
Harry uncertainly straightened his tie.
"Mr. Potter... did you wish to tell us something?"
"Um... yes."
He nodded and cast an apologetic glance at Weasley.
"Ron, he just pointed out Mr. Black to me and said he was... a Death Eater."
McGonagall's eyes widened in shock at Potter's words.
"After that Mr. Black spoke up, and then Ron just mentioned that his relatives had served Voldemort..."
The children gasped, and only the professor gave an almost imperceptible flinch, showing no other reaction to the name being spoken aloud.
"...after that he went at Ron."
"Mr. Black?"
"Everything said is true — though not the whole truth..."
I shrugged.
"...Mr. Potter, the next time you consider leaving out important information, you would do well to remember that you are in the world of magic, where there exists such a useful artifact as a Pensieve, into which one may place memories for others to view — and there is also a spell by which one may read a person's thoughts, and then there is that most interesting thing known as Veritaserum."
With each word I spoke, Harry's eyes grew a little wider.
"As for what Mr. Potter said — he forgot to mention that following the unfounded accusations from Weasley, I first asked for an apology. He also made some vague accusation against my relatives, stating that they had served You-Know-Who, to which I pointed out that they had been accused of such, but were fully exonerated. And after that... after that the words were spoken that I would prefer not to repeat — though he did repeat them again just now..."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed with displeasure.
"...it was precisely those words that compelled me to act with greater... decisiveness."
I made a point of wincing, and McGonagall shifted her gaze from me to Potter.
"Mr. Potter — is that accurate?"
"Well..."
The boy looked away.
"Mr. Potter?"
"Yes..."
He was forced to admit it. In doing so he earned a look of pure hatred from his new friend, who again tried to say something, then immediately remembered that the Silencing Charm was still on him.
"Mr. Weasley... I am disappointed in you."
McGonagall shook her head.
"Unfortunately I cannot assign you a punishment, as you have not yet been sorted into a House. However, I wish to make it known that I would most certainly not wish to see you in my House. But if by some miracle you end up there, I will arrange additional etiquette lessons for you so that you have no spare time to get into conflicts of this sort."
She drew a slow breath and turned her gaze to me.
"Mr. Black, I understand your frustration, however I do ask that you avoid resolving conflicts in such a manner."
"Professor, I am not a particularly confrontational person. I genuinely couldn't care less what people call me. But if the honor of the young women who belong to my family is brought into question — or if I witness a young woman being insulted in my presence, whether she be a noble lady or a Muggle-born — I will not stand aside."
McGonagall sighed.
"I understand your position..."
A wave of her wand and Weasley stood clean.
"...now then — let us proceed to the Hall and carry out your Sorting."
We were led into the Great Hall, where four long House tables stood, with a considerably shorter staff table set perpendicular to them at the front. The seats for the Heads of House were positioned facing their respective tables. At the center sat Dumbledore.
"I shall now call your names one by one. When your name is called, you will come forward to this stool, where I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head. It will determine which House you will call home for the years ahead."
McGonagall approached the stool, took the list in one hand and the pointed hat that lay upon the stool in the other, and began to read from the list. Interestingly, it was clearly not in alphabetical order. Though I had little interest in who ended up where — I simply stood and stared up at the ceiling in quiet thought.
"That's..."
But Hermi couldn't finish, as Daphne's hand settled on her shoulder, stopping her.
"Black, Draco."
When my name was called, I walked toward the stool with complete composure, head held high, and sat down. The Hat was lowered onto my head a moment later.
"Hmm... A difficult choice... Very difficult..."
The Hat spoke slowly and paused often to mull things over in silence.
"Brave enough — brave enough to act when your family was insulted. Godric would have approved of that."
I smiled inwardly.
"Friends — you have few, but yes... for that girl who was given into your keeping, you would move mountains. Finding friends yourself is not something that comes easily to you, but... Yes, Helga would have welcomed you to her House."
I barely managed to stop myself from giving an amused snort.
"I see your thoughts, young Black — but even when the curricula differed between Houses, a student's character always carried considerable weight in the Sorting. A House is the home one lives in, after all — and nothing has ever stopped a student from attending classes in another House."
Now that genuinely surprised me.
"Though such a thing was exceptionally rare... Yes..."
The Hat fell silent again.
"Knowledge — you are quite literally consumed by it. I have not seen a study regimen like yours in a very long time, even accounting for your particular circumstances..."
I tensed slightly.
"Do not worry — everything I see remains with me. No one will ever have access to this information."
Those words settled me somewhat.
"Rowena would have approved of such a thirst for knowledge."
Another brief silence, after which the Hat continued.
"Cunning — you have it, along with the knowledge of how to spin intrigue, but you don't enjoy it. Knowledge is certainly worthy, but Salazar would not have been especially pleased to see you in his House. So we are left with a choice of three..."
"If I may be permitted a preference..."
I decided to address the Hat directly.
"And what is it that you want?"
"More precisely — I would rather not end up in Gryffindor."
"Are you certain? You could find followers there. Even without wishing to play at intrigue, you would rise quickly to the top of that House."
"Power? It doesn't interest me greatly. Too much responsibility."
"Very well — that leaves Helga's House or Rowena's, then?"
The Hat's voice was thoughtful.
"If you cannot decide, I can say that not long ago I told the esteemed Helena herself that I would prefer to study in her House."
"Hmm... I see no impossibility in that."
"RAVENCLAW!"
The Hat's proclamation left my ears ringing slightly.
"Good luck, young Raven — and if your plan comes to fruition, I shall be glad."
The Hat's voice shifted on that last phrase, becoming considerably more feminine — though I couldn't make sense of why, and had no chance to ask, as it was lifted from my head.
I rose from the stool, noticed that the colors and crest of my new House had appeared on my robes, and walked with perfect composure to the table, where I took my seat. There was applause — though rather subdued. The students of the House of the Clever preferred quiet conversation among themselves over watching the new arrivals.
It wasn't long before Hermione was called up for Sorting, and after a couple of minutes under the Hat she too was sent to Ravenclaw. Honestly, this surprised me — I had expected that after my explanations she would end up in Hufflepuff. Though it was entirely possible that I was the reason she ended up here, or perhaps Daphne. As far as I knew, she hadn't had any friends before Hogwarts.
"May I sit next to you?"
Hermione looked at me with a trace of uncertainty.
"Please..."
I gestured to the seat beside me and she sat down with a happy smile.
Daphne appeared at my side not long after, wearing standard school robes, which looked somewhat unfamiliar on her. I had grown used to seeing her in a maid's uniform, after all.
"My lord."
She gave me a brief nod and, at my gesture, sat down.
"I'm glad you decided to join me."
"It could not have been otherwise."
She wore her mask, showing everyone that she felt nothing at all — but in the depths of her eyes I could easily read the pleasure she felt at having ended up in the same House as me. We had not been certain until the very last moment that it would work out.
"Traitor!"
That shout interrupted the Sorting, and a moment later a gap opened in the crowd of first-years who had not yet been sorted, in the middle of which someone was clearly hitting someone else.
"That is enough!"
Flitwick reacted first, and several binding spells shot into the two who were fighting, freezing them in place.
"Thank you, Professor Flitwick."
McGonagall gave her colleague a grateful nod, then slowly set the Hat back on the stool, rolled up her list, and drew her wand.
"Misters Weasley..."
The professor's gaze was directed toward her House table, and the moment she said those words the twins rose from their seats.
"Why is it always us?!"
They said it in perfect unison.
"Oh no — I was not suggesting this was your doing. I wished only to apologize to you. I once considered you the most irresponsible students of your generation, but now..."
The professor shook her head.
"...your younger brother has surpassed you. You, at least, do try to stay within the bounds of a joke — even if an occasionally cruel one. But he... I will be compelled to raise the question of your younger brother's expulsion at the very first staff meeting."
"Minerva, don't you think that's a bit excessive?"
Dumbledore attempted to enter the conversation.
"Not in the least..."
She shook her head.
"...but I will present all the details at the staff meeting. For now, I suggest we sort Mr. Weasley and send him to his table."
A flick of her wand and Weasley was deposited into the chair, after which the paralysis was lifted.
"Mr. Weasley, sit down..."
McGonagall lifted the Hat, Weasley sat, and the Hat was lowered onto his head.
"Nerve without sense? Well then — Gryffindor it is."
The boy rose from the stool beaming, and completely failing to notice that his new House was rather less than delighted by the Hat's choice of words, made his way toward his new table.