Sorting Things Out -- Ch. 3

Summary: A Harry Potter fanfic. Albus' father said the Sorting Hat took choices into account, but he certainly didn't ask to be put in Hufflepuff. Scorpius, meanwhile, is having problems with his fellow Gryffindors. Was Albus' father wrong? How will their families react? And will either of them manage to get into the House where they really belong—or at least figure out where, exactly, that is? No pairings.

Scorpius had a hard time falling asleep that night, but by morning he was dozing silently, a welcome respite from the anxiety of the previous night.

It was abruptly broken at 8:30 AM, when he was violently yanked up by his ankles and left suspending in the air over his bed.

"Agh! What the—huh—?!"

Scorpius thrashed in the air, hearing a chorus of snickers but unable to identify their source. His cries roused the other Gryffindor first-years, who caught sight of James, Gavin and Evan standing in the doorway, grinning like foxes in a henhouse. James' wand was out and lazily pointed at their suspended peer.

"Good morning, firsties! Just wanted to make sure none of you overslept! I'd hurry—it always takes a long time to find your way around on the first day. Anyway, liberacorpus!"

"Agh!" Gravity suddenly seemed to remember Scorpius' existence, and he crashed back down amidst his blankets and sheets. James and his friends chortled and swept out the door, leaving the first-years in bleary confusion.

Albus had a similar but less malicious awakening over in Hufflepuff; a boy named Joshua McNamara had been hopping around the room, trying to put on his right sock, when he accidentally fell right on top of Albus' bed and jerked him from a sound sleep. Joshua had apologized profusely, but Albus still thought this was a bad omen for the coming day/seven years of his life.

Albus' three other roommates had spent most of the Feast talking excitedly among themselves, and they jumped right back into it as soon as they woke up. It made Albus feel slightly awkward as he pulled himself out of bed and dug through his trunk for clothes—they seemed to have become friends instantly, while he was still reeling from being caught off from nearly his entire family.

"I hope we have Transfiguration today."

"I don't—my sister said the professor is a real bleeder."

"Professor Littlewood? She's an old friend of my aunt's, she's not so bad."

Albus tried to get a word in, though his voice came out both softer and higher than he expected. "The Herbology professor is an old friend of my—"

"What about that Professor Selwyn? Did you hear his speech last night?"

"I think you mean did we hearrr him."

"Heh-heh!"

Albus frowned and gave up, following them morosely out into the Common Room. Almost instantly he felt an arm grab him across the shoulders. He jumped, only for its owner—Louis—to laugh and draw him closer.

"Jumpier than usual this morning, huh? And that's saying something," he quipped. "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Not great," Albus admitted weakly.

Louis frowned. "Homesick already?"

"Sort of." He thought about mentioning how upset he was about being put in Hufflepuff, but decided against it. Instead he asked "Can you show me how to get to the Great Hall from here?"

"Sure! You can walk with me and my friends," Louis said, motioning to a large group clustered around the exit. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Does your friend need help too?"

Albus turned; Joshua McNamara was standing close behind them, apparently trying to either overhear directions or follow them unnoticed. His tawny, freckly face turned slightly red as they noticed him.

"I guess?"

"Cool. Come along, kid," Louis said, motioning as he and Albus headed over to his friends.

The Great Hall was practically right above the Hufflepuff Common Room, so it was pretty easy to find. Louis spent the short trip talking up a storm, but he and his friends vanished almost immediately once they reached their destination. Albus had a feeling this was going to be a pattern.

"Which table is ours?" asked Joshua McNamara.

"That one with the badger on the tapestry," Albus pointed. He scanned over the whole Hall, catching sight of Rose. "I'm gonna go talk to my cousin, okay?"

"Um—alright," Joshua said, as Albus hurried off to the Ravenclaw table.

"Hey—Rose!"

She looked up, breaking into a grin. "Hey, Al! How are you doing?"

He felt his face fall as he took the empty spot on the bench next to her. "Not that great," he admitted.

"Why not?" she said, then frowned. "Oh. Are you upset that you didn't get into Gryffindor?"

"Well, yeah." He gave her an odd look. "Aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Not really," she admitted, and then, in response to Albus' shocked expression "I mean, a little. I was sort of looking forward to being in the same house as Victoire and Molly."

"And James and Dominique."

"Well, I could take or leave them," Rose said with a wan smile. She shrugged. "I'm kind of glad I got into a different house, though. I mean—all of our aunts and uncles and every cousin except Louis was a Gryffindor…it's sort of nice to do something different, don't you think?"

Albus looked away, feeling his face burn. "I dunno. I mean—I wish we could at least be in the same house together."

"That's true." She looked away awkwardly, then asked "But Hufflepuff must be nice, right? I mean—that's Hufflepuff's whole thing, isn't it, being full of nice people?" She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "No wonder the Hat put you there."

Albus' frown deepened at that thought. He hesitated. "Rose, can I…ask you something?"

"What?"

"When you had the Hat on…did it…say anything to you? About why it decided not to put you in Gryffindor?"

She frowned. "Not really," she said slowly. "Well—sort of. It could tell that I was thinking about going to Gryffindor, but it said I would be good for Ravenclaw, too. And that it still regretted not putting my mum there."

"So it...let you choose?" he asked, feeling his heart sink.

"I suppose. But I told it to send me where it thought would be best. It just decided I was more of a Ravenclaw."

"But you could have been a Gryffindor? If you wanted?"

"Yes, but I told, you I don't mind Ravenclaw—"

"I know, but—when I talked to the Hat, it…"

He trailed off, looking away. Before Rose could press him, however, a Ravenclaw prefect appeared, eyebrow quirked at Albus.

"Hey—sorry, I'm still learning faces, but are you in this House?"

"He's a Hufflepuff. But he's just visiting," Rose said quickly.

The prefect nodded. "Well, normally that would be fine, but on the first day Heads of Houses need you to stay at your own table. Make sure everybody gets the right schedule and everything."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Albus murmured, feeling himself blush again. "I'll talk to you later, Rose."

He got up and slouched back to his own table, taking the empty seat beside Joshua. He felt very alone.

He was startled out of his thoughts when a great rush of owls burst in through the window; several people gasped (Joshua even fell out of his seat in surprise) as the birds swooped down, dropping letters and packages to their charges. Though postage owls were normal to Albus, he had never seen such a large flock at once. His own pet Stripe, a southern white-face, fluttered onto the table beside his plate, and a moment later it was joined by Brocard, a pretty eagle owl that belonged to his parents.

Uh-oh.

Albus reached for the owl's letter with shaking hands, kicking himself for not realizing this was coming. He opened the envelope and read:

Albus' stomach twisted uncomfortably. He was sure this message was supposed to reassure him on the off-chance that he really did wind up in Slytherin, but somehow it just made him feel even worse. His dad had tried to make a good case for Slytherin—how it had been home to that Snape guy he was named after and how brave he was and everything. Somehow he doubted Dad could come up with anything so heroic to say about Hufflepuff.

Stripe and Brocard were both looking at Albus expectantly. He folded up his father's letter, shoved it in his pocket and shooed them away.

"Go away. I'll write them back later." Brocard pecked at his hand; Albus drew it away and made a dismissive motion with the other. "Go!"

Brocard gave an affronted hoot and flew away. Stripe hesitated, probably hoping for some food, and then followed.

Unlike Albus, Scorpius had arrived early and started eating quickly, so he was already almost done when when the mail owls arrived. On the plus side, his Grandpa Greengrass sent him a box of Chocolate Frogs, a treat that his mother would never let him have. On the downside, he got a letter from his parents with all the expected pleasantries—we hope you had a nice trip, good luck on your first day, and oh yes, did you get into Slytherin?

He hated that they had phrased it like that. "Did you get into Slytherin"—like we wanted you to? It would have been easier if they just asked which House he was Sorted into. Now he had to tell them no, I didn't get into Slytherin, I got into Gryffindor. Maybe if it was Ravenclaw they wouldn't mind, but Gryffindor?

Scorpius pocketed the letter and look down the table; maybe he was imagining it, but there seemed to be an unusual amount of space between him and his closest neighbor. He sighed. He was thinking of what to tell his parents when the enormous Professor Hagrid appeared, passing out schedules to each of his students.

"Firs' year, right? 'Ere ya go, then…"

He put a sheet of parchment next to Scorpius' plate and moved on, as the boy unconsciously moved forward to press his body against the table edge. He had Defense Against the Dark Arts first. Well, that was the class he had been looking forward to the most, at least. Maybe his first day would alright after all.

Professor Lemery's Potion class was held in the dungeon, but she had tried her best to compensate for that fact: the walls were covered with colorful charts and tapestries while magical balls of light floated near the ceiling, putting a cheerful vaneer over the dark room. There were about a half-dozen tables; most of the other Hufflepuffs shared with a partner, but Albus, too timid to ask to sit with anyone, sat by himself.

Professor Lemery was a pretty, youngish witch with fair hair, spectacles and black robes lined with yellow. She smiled warmly as she finished taking roll, her eyes hovering over each student's face.

"Alright, then. Well. Welcome to your very first class at Hogwarts!" she said, and Albus wished that he felt as enthusiastic as she sounded. "If you don't remember me from last night, I'm Professor Lemery, and I'm your Head of House. I hope all you kids are enjoying Hufflepuff so far!"

A few kids nodded or gave vague statements of assent. Albus put his head down on his arms.

"Now—Potions," Professor Lemery said, rising from her desk and walking among the tables. "This will be a little different from some of your other classes, as we will be focusing more on knowledge and formulas than on spells and incantations. Some of the greatest Potion Masters in history were terrible at other kinds of magic—not that I think any of you are!" She tittered nervously. "Um—well. Today we will begin by examining some of the common ingredients that—oh!"

Professor Lemery had been trying to motion to the supply cupboard, but accidentally hit a girl named Lucky Hebbar on the side of the head. "Sorry, sorry!" she said quickly, backing away. "Just a little clumsy today. Ahem. So. Um, ingredients. Please take out your books and turn to chapter one, and I want you to try to identify each of these—agh!"

Joshua McNamara had left his bag on the floor by his chair; he was now apologizing profusely as he helped the professor to her feet.

Somehow this class was not improving Albus' opinion of Hufflepuff House.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a tall man with very dark hair and eyes. He had a mustache and a goatee so pointy that it looked like you could prick your finger on it. He began the class by taking roll, and then strode out before the Gryffindors with a critical gaze.

"Good morrrning, students. My name is Prrrofessor Rrraguel Selwyn, and I will be yourrr Defense Against the Darrrk Arrrts teacher. In this class we will—arrre you paying attention back therrre?"

Three girls had been snickering to each other in the back of the class. They all looked up, smiling innocently. "Yes, Prrrofessorrr," Hippolyta Prewett said.

If Professor Selwyn caught their mockery, he didn't show it. Instead he turned, walking with slow steps and a rigid back, over to the blackboard; he tapped it thrice with his wand and a long list of words began to write themselves into existence. "Herrre is ourrr rrrough schedule forrr the year. As you can see, we will focus mostly on theorrry for the firrrst term…you should be wrrriting this down," he added. There was a rustling of quills, though Scorpius had already started. "After Chrrristmas, we will turrrn our focus to a brrrief overrrrview of Darrrk Magic in historrry, as well as prrractical examinations…"

"You mean casting spells and stuff?" Michael Vaisey called.

Professor Selwyn gave a withering look. "In layman's terrrms, yes. And please, rrraise your hand when you wish to speak." He coughed softly. "Of courrrse, to study Defense Against the Darrrk Arrrts we must also understand the Darrrk Arrrts themselves. We will begin these next two weeks by studying the philosophies of classical thinkerrrs…"

He droned on for the next few minutes, casually throwing out names like Jannes and Jambres, Herpo the Foul and Maurus Alexander. Scorpius was beginning to wonder if he could keep up with this class. "And finally, our historrrical overrrview will come to a stop at the moderrrn errra, as we discuss the rrreign of Voldemort and the so-called Death Eater Movement. Of courrrse…"

Scorpius noticed that the girl sitting next to him had stopped writing and was staring at him. He looked up and she immediately went back to work, but still seemed to be watching him out of the corner of her eye. He had an unsetting feeling that people in the rows behind him were staring at him too.

"…go into more detail in the higher yearrrs; the firrrst year, to me, is best used as a generrral overrrview of the materrrial. As forrr my grrrrading arrrangement…"

Scorpius turned around in his seat, pretending to look at the clock, and immediately three raised heads went back down to their parchments. So they were gaping at him. Scorpius set his jaw, slowly turning back around and forcing himself to take notes. Just ignore them, he thought. That was how his parents usually dealt with these situations.

"…a quiz everrry week to make sure that you arrre keeping up with the rrreading. I— "

Two kids in the next row were whispering, and he distinctly heard one of them say "Death Eater" while casting him a furtive glance. He felt his hand tighten on his quill until it was almost bent. He felt like he was about to scream. Was he really such an oddity to these people?! Did he deserve to get treated like a zoo animal just because his dad made a few dumb mistakes twenty years ago?

The person sitting behind him tapped his shoulder. "Hey."

Scorpius spun around in his seat and practically snarled "What?!"

The kid blinked. "I just wanted to know if I could borrow your ink."

"Misterrr Malfoy, Misterrr Patterrrson—pay attention," Professor Selwyn said, barely breaking the pace of his lecture.

Things got off to a bad start in Herbology when Albus, distracted by unpleasant thoughts, answered the roll call by saying "Yeah, Uncle Neville?"

Several people laughed as Albus felt his face heat up. Neville's mouth twitched. "Call me Professor Longbottom, okay, son?"

"Yes, sir," Albus said, bowing his face in embarrassment.

"That's alright. Let's see…Urquhart, Johanne?"

After the roll Neville/Professor Longbottom went over the basics of what they were going to teach this year. It was a short lecture, followed by a tour of Greenhouse 1 (which included four varieties of singing plants). If Albus had been in a better mood it would have been a very nice class, and was certainly more enjoyable than Professor Lemery's Potions.

"Alright, now, it's a few minutes early, but I think we've pretty much covered everything for today. But make sure you read the first chapter of your book by Thursday—don't worry, it's not much! Ooh, Mr. Potter, could you stay behind for a bit?"

Albus froze, then headed back to Neville as the other Hufflepuffs happily made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. "Yes, Professor Longbottom?"

Neville didn't answer for a moment, craning his head to watch the Hufflepuffs disappear behind the other greenhouses. Then he grinned and pulled Albus into a sideways hug.

"Nice to see you, kiddo! But don't let anybody know that, or they'll get suspicious when I give you perfect marks on every test." He winked. "How are things?"

"Fine, I guess," Albus mumbled.

Neville's grin fell. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I—it's nothing."

Neville bent down, bringing his face close to Albus'. "Come on, Al— if something's wrong, you can tell me. Are you feeling homesick already, or is James— "

"No…it's nothing like that. I just—well…"

Something about Neville made him hard to lie to; or maybe it was more that Albus didn't feel like he had to lie to Neville, since he was uninvolved in this whole "family legacy" problem. "It's about my House."

Neville nodded slowly. "Ah. Okay."

That tiny crack in Albus' defenses burst quickly, and he suddenly found his words coming out in a rush. "It's just—all summer James kept saying the Hat was going to put me in Slytherin, but the Hat didn't want to put me in Slytherin at all, but—instead it put me in Hufflepuff, and I don't want to be in Hufflepuff, because James and Molly and everyone are in Gryffindor, and everyone in my whole family was in Gryffindor except for Louis, but he already has a bunch of other friends and—and—Dad said the Hat let you pick, but it—didn't—"

He let out a choked sob, closed his eyes and felt hot tears flow down his cheeks. He suddenly realized that Neville was trying to shush him, and he had placed his hands on each of Albus' shoulders, turning him around so that they could look at each other face-to-face.

"Calm down, Al!" he said, a note of panic in his voice. Albus let out another sob, but he sniffle

Albus blinked back tears, nodding.</P

"When I came to Hogwarts, the Hat didn't listen to me either. Because I requested to be put in Hufflepuff." Albus looked up in surprise. "Yeah, it's true! I didn't think I was brave enough for Gryffindor, but the Hat said I was. I must have spent almost five minutes arguing with it! So you see? A lot of people don't wind up in the House they expected."

Albus wiped his eyes and stared at him. "But—it said you were good enough for Gryffindor. Why did it say I wasn't?"

"Er—" Neville suddenly realized that his story might not have been the kind Albus needed to hear. He quickly changed tactics. "What I mean is—Gryffindor was the right house for me, not that it's—better than any other. The Hat just…saw that I had Gryffindor qualities, deep down that I didn't know about. The Hat must have realized that you have Hufflepuff qualities. Now come on—what are Hufflepuffs known for?"

"Nothing."

"Not nothing— Hufflepuffs are supposed to be, you know, kind and hardworking and loyal. And you've always been one of the sweetest kids I know!" Albus looked down at the ground, and Neville lifted his chin up, smiling. "I mean—you're Aunt Hannah was a Hufflepuff. Did you know that?" Albus shook his head. "Well, you see?"

"But—other than Louis, and I guess Rose now, I'm the only one…"

"Come on, now. Do you really think anyone is going to care that you got into a different House than them? I know your parents better than that."

Albus thought about that for a moment. "I don't think Mum and Dad are gonna be mad at me, like Uncle Ron told Rose he would be—and I think he was just joking anyway. But…everyone started making fun of Louis when he got into Hufflepuff. I don't think it bothered him much, but it would bother me a lot. And…"

He trailed off. Neville frowned. "What, Al? Come on, talk to me."

"Dad said that the Hat let him pick what House you wanted," Albus repeated. "And Rose said that it did let her pick, she just didn't want to go to Gryffindor that badly."

"So?"

"So it didn't let me pick. I asked to be put in Gryffindor, and it…just ignored me." His lip quivered. "That must mean I'm not brave at all—otherwise it would have at least given me a choice."

"No. Don't say that," Neville whispered. "I mean, if that were true—then I must me a really nasty person, if it wouldn't even consider sending me to Hufflepuff. And you think I'm a nice guy, right?"

His tone was mock-pleading. Albus couldn't help but smile a little. "Yeah." His eyes fell again. "But then why wouldn't it let me choose?"

Neville rose to his feet. "I can't really answer that, Al. But I don't think you should worry about it too much. It's not like you can change your House once you've been Sorted."

Albus was silent at that, looking at his feet. Neville sighed quietly, taking his watch from his robe pocket. "You really should get to the Great Hall for lunch. But do you feel better now?"

It was still hard to lie to Neville. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Well…think it over, okay?" He pocketed his watch, his expression still nervous. "Do you want me to walk you back to the castle?"

"No, thanks. I can find it."

"Alright." Albus turned to go. "And you know—I'm always here if you need to talk to someone. And Hagrid and the other professors, too."

"I know. Thanks."

Albus trod his way back to the castle, still sniffling a little, the dried paths of tears still palpable on his face.

He felt ashamed of himself for crying. It was his first day of class—not even a full day yet. He had barely been away from home for twenty-four hours, and already he was sobbing into Uncle Neville's robes like a baby.

No wonder he didn't belong in Gryffindor.