𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 / 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒 / 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐖𝐒

𝟎𝟏 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐭

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟏

The Great Hall hummed and rattled with conversation. Flags of red, green, blue, and gold all swayed from where they had been suspended midair above the masses of students. Shrieks of excitement rang out every so often and you could feel the vibrations rising up through your feet from where you stood in the midst of a sea of black cloaks and matching cone caps. Most of the voices had been compelled into silence under the stern yet welcoming gaze of Professor McGonagall.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The sorting hat cackled, startling you out of your daze. A girl happily hopped down from the ancient looking wooden stool and skipped over to the long table at the far side of the room. She was one of the first Ravenclaws to be sorted that evening and the table was roaring with applause, much to her delight.

Your eyes desperately darted back over to the table draped in red and gold fabric, desperately seeking out the eyes of your brother, James. He was one of the first to be sorted, despite the fact that you shared a last name. He'd gotten Gryffindor, same as your mother and father. Same as your great-grandmother and great-grandfather, and same as the loud, friendly boy you'd both met on the train who'd introduced himself proudly as Sirius Black.

Despite only being introduced a few hours prior, he and your brother seemed to get along famously. They shared the same sense of excitement for everything they did, the same never-tired longing for adventure that you could never offer. 

 The closer you inspected the Gryffindor table, the more it seemed that James had already made friends with a number of other boys seated beside him on the long bench: A taller, gangly boy with a head of near-auburn hair, and a shorter, timid looking one who seemed to cower where he sat, hands folded before him.

"Bellatrix Black."

McGonagall called out the next name, ruffling the stretched roll of parchment in her hands, though her tone was stale and void of expression. The girl who had been standing just beside you, with wild black hair and an upturned button nose, shoved her way past the remaining first years to the very front, hopping up onto the platform and spinning around confidently. She looked proud, chin tilted toward the enchanted ceiling that was twinkling with stars and wisps of grey clouds.

The new gaping space at your side where she had been standing made you even more aware of the fact that you were one of the remaining five first-years yet to be sorted. You tried to seek out your brother once more, desperate for his soothing nod of approval that all older brothers seemed to possess. Even if he were only ten months your senior, he had an air of regency that not many other eleven year-old boys possessed.

Just as you were about to give up, you caught his hazel eye with a flicker of candle light reflecting from his wide-brimmed wire glasses. He'd been quite proud of them before school started, parading himself through Diagon Alley with his hew eyewear perched high on his nose. But you could see him twitching to remove them now, surrounded by other boys of his age. Knowing James, he'd likely rather be rendered blind than deal with any sort of scrutiny from his peers.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat bellowed after only seconds of being placed onto Bellatrix's head.

The green and silver donned table erupted into a fit of cheers and belted laughter. The other houses were painfully silent, excluding the Gryffindors who booed and groaned loudly. Though the bodies of students were ever-shifting, you could make out just enough of their table to see James and his new gang of buddies joining in, sticking out their downward pointed thumbs to the poor girl who looked on with an unknowing grin.

"(Y/N) Potter."

The scroll trembled in McGonagall's hands. Your name seemed foreign in her accented voice and it took you a moment to realize it was your name she had called. The Great Hall went painfully silent; so much so that you could hear your own footfalls clacking against the flagstone floors as you tiptoed down the path that the other first years had carved out for you without being asked.