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Light of Hope: Part One
Chapter Seven: Together at Hogwarts

The next hour was spent between conversation with Harry and listening to conversation between Ron and Hermione, or Hermione and Tair. Harry joined in occasionally, but Hope didn't--she just didn't know any of them well enough to voice some of the comments she made to Harry out loud.

When Tair wasn't fighting with Hermione, he turned to Hope and began to talk to her. He didn't seem to care that she didn't say much, but he still managed to have a two-way conversation.

Neville asked Ron a seemingly innocent question about professional Quidditch teams, and Ron immediately launched into a tirade about the prejudice of referees and the virtues of a team called something like the 'Chuddley Cannons.' Harry was listening with interest, but Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to her nephew and Hope.

Tair's stories had included Hermione, and Hope soon found herself talking to Hermione as if she had known her all of her life.

There was a slight interruption in the form of a boy with a sharp, slightly whining voice.

"They're saying down the train that Harry and Hope Potter are in this compartment," he said. Hope positioned her head so that her face was toward her knees, then slipped quietly into Harry's head.

She saw a thin, pale boy with sharply pointed features looking around the room with a look on his face that screamed of Dudley. His gaze lingered on Hope, Hermione and Tair; he threw a dismissive glance at Hermione, blinked at Hope, and seemed to have some sort of indecision about Tair. He moved on, giving the same dismissive look to Ron and Neville and another puzzled one to Harry.

"I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy," he announced. "Oh, and this is Crabbe and this is Goyle." Two large boys stepped up on either side of him. "No need to ask who you two are," he added, presumably towards Ron and Neville. "A Weasley and a Longbottom. The blood traitors together."

Neville flushed and clenched his teeth, but Ron was clearly furious. He seemed to be about to say something, but Malfoy cut him off. He ignored Hermione completely, saying to Hope, "and you're Hope Potter." He cast another appraising glance at Harry, then stepped towards Tair. "Potter." He extended his hand. Tair looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, winked, and said, "Black."

"What?"

Tair shook Draco's hand heartily. "I'm Altair Black. Nice to meet you."

"Black?" the other boy's face became calculating. "Any relation to Orion?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Tair said evenly.

"Who's your mother?"

"Athena Granger-Black, not that it's any of your business."

"Granger? I haven't heard of that name before-"

"Really? It's a very common muggle name."

"Muggle?" Malfoy took a step back.

"Of course. Muggles usually have muggle names."

"You should watch out, Potter. You keep hanging around mudbloods and blood traitors, and you'll end up the same way your parents did." He held out his hand again in an open invitation, this time to Harry.

\If you don't say something, he'll never leave.//

\I know./

"I think I know who the wrong type is."

Malfoy's sneer deepened. "Careful, Potter. Keep on like that, and you'll go the same way your parents did." He stomped out.

Tair blinked. "Well," he said, "anybody care to explain?"

The easy conversation restarted and continued until Hermione left to check when they would get there and Ron went to retrieve Neville's trunk. Hermione returned with the news that they would be arriving soon, and Ron came back with the trunk and a pair of startling green ears which, coupled with his rather red face, made him look a bit like a very gaudy Christmas ornament.

Hermione was set to scour her schoolbooks (and several extra ones) for the countercharm, but Ron convinced her to wait.

"I really don't think that even the twins would pull something that would last through the sorting. Mum'd skin them, if Percy didn't do it first-" There was a pop, and Ron's ears returned to normal. "See?"

Jackets came off and robes came on, then they gathered in the hallway with the rest of the students. Hope's heart was thudding with excitement. She was finally going to see Hogwarts in all its glory. Any place that had as much of the tingle she had come to associate with magic as Hogwarts had was bound to be spectacular. The excitement soon turned to jumpiness, however, as she was pressed from all sides. She also couldn't use her cane because of the close quarters, and was limited once again to using Harry as a guide dog. She didn't really mind, but it did irk her to have to leave her state of relative independance.

So it was that Hope was fairly miserable by the time she disembarked, and Harry wasn't any help, as he was by no means cheerful. She didn't think any of the others noticed, but she couldn't be sure, and Harry could have sworn he saw Tair glance at them from the corner of his eye.

Their (almost) identical reverie was interrupted by a sound that had become very familiar to Hope during her time at Hogwarts: a gravely voice bellowing over the noise of the crowd.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" \That's Hagrid.//

\You really meant it when you said big... Look./

\Whoa.// Whoa was a good word for it. The man was huge, twice as tall and three times as wide as anyone else, with a lot of wiry black hair. Aunt Petunia would have had a fit if he had been seen anywhere near Privet Drive.

Harry, Hope, Tair, Hermione, Ron and Neville moved towards Hagrid in a loose group. Hermione occasionally repositioned Neville when he, staring at all of the people, was in danger of running into someone.

Hagrid beamed at Hope, before bellowing out again, "Firs' years over here!"

The six of them and the other first years followed Hagrid's looming form down a path. Harry couldn't see anything along the sides, but Hope smelled the musty scent of dew-wet forest.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," said Hagrid, "jus' over there. Any more firs' years?"

Harry gasped, then threw the image at Hope, who barely restrained herself from doing the same. There was a large lake before them, shining black in the moonlight, and stretching high above it, on a mountain, was an immense castle, with turrets and towers reaching above it. The stars and moon made the windows glitter, and Hope had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Hagrid led them to the lake. There was a small fleet of little boats skidding lightly on the surface. "Watch yer step! No more'n four to a boat!"

Harry jumped in to one and grabbed Hope's hand. \It's about a foot and a half to the middle./

\Thanks.// Hope jumped and landed lightly in the boat. Hermione followed, and Tair clambered in afterwards. Ron and Neville were in the boat next to them, with a tall black boy and a boy with sandy hair.

"Forward" Hagrid cried.

The fleet glided forward, and Tair said something that sounded like "Ulrp" before closing his eyes then opening them again very quickly and focusing on Hogwarts.

Hermione pressed her lips together and said, in a rather strained voice, "Didn't expect the boats, did you?"

Tair didn't move. It appeared that if he so much as twitched a toe, he would be sick all over the boat.

By the time the boat lurched against the shore, Tair was thoroughly green, and he jumped out as quickly as possible.

Hope lingered for a moment, then Harry grabbed Trevor mid-leap and handed him back to Neville.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid let the first years up the stairs to the huge oaken door, raised his great fist, and knocked.

The door was opened almost before Hagrid could draw back his hand. Professor McGonagall stood there, seemingly even more imposing than when she had first come to the Dursleys.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I shall take them from here." She opened the door wider and stepped back, allowing the first years to enter the castle.

Hermione gasped. Hope couldn't blame her. The sight from Harry's eyes was just as marvelous as the view of Hogwarts from the path. Any of the houses on Privet Drive would have fit into it with room left over on the sides, and there still would have been space at the top; Harry couldn't see if there was a ceiling at all. Dozens of torches in sconces lined the walls, casting a warm glow over the people in the hall.

The professor led them into a small chamber. The sound of hundreds of voices rose from the next room.

Professor McGonagall turned and said, "Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "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 honor. 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." Her sweeping gaze seemed to linger on Tair, who was still a pale green, and Ron, who had a smudge of dirt on his nose. "Please wait quietly."

She left, and a buzz of chatter rose from the mass of students. Hermione scanned her companions quickly then straightened Neville's cloak (fastened under his left ear) with a jerk and tugged on Tair's sleeve so that it completely covered the blue muggle shirt beneath it, then began to mumble furiously to herself. Hope, listening, caught "Light, lumos; unlocking, alohomora; levitating, wingardium leviosa--maybe they'll have us unlock the door to get there--Unlocking, alohomora; levitating, wingardium leviosa--maybe we'll have to light up the room--levitating, wingarmora lumosa--no, that's not right!"

Harry tuned her out. Under other circumstances, her mutterings might have been vaguely entertaining, but now they were just making him more nervous. Hope slipped behind his eyes to inspect their classmates, (and distract from her own nervousness--what kind of tests were they going to have?) but was soon jolted back into her own skin when several translucent, pearly figures floated through the wall and to over the students. Harry and Hope both jumped at least a foot in the air, several others screamed. Hope caught a bit of the ghosts'-- for that's what they were--conversation.

"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?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

No one said anything; everyone seemed to have been struck mute.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded, eyes wide.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

She led them through the door in a line, Hope was after Harry, who was behind one of the boys Ron and Neville had shared a boat with. Ron was before the other boy, and Tair, then Hermione, then Neville were behind Hope.

Hermione stopped muttering as soon as Tair passed through the door. Hope stayed in her own body. She could see the Great Hall after the Sorting Ceremony; she did not want to stumble or trip because she wasn't paying attention to Harry and her feet.

She heard Hermione say something about charms and ceilings, but she wasn't paying much attention. She could feel hundreds of eyes on her, and they were making her very nervous.

There was a clatter of wood on stone, then silence, then suddenly a gravely voice began to sing:

"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.

\What is it?//

Harry shot her an image of a ragged hat, singing through an exceptionally large hole.

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!"

Hope jumped at the thunderous applause, then again at the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice: "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat's voice.

There was more applause from the table to the far right, then McGonagall spoke again. "Black, Altair!" Tair's presence behind her moved away. It wasn't long before "GRYFFINDOR!" boomed out. The table to the far right applauded.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time;

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became a Gryffindor, and the Gryffindor table exploded with cheers; someone was catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat seemed to be taking more time to Sort some people then others, "Finnigan, Seamus," who was the boy in front of Harry, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the Hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione's sorting didn't take as long as Seamus' did, but it wasn't over instantly, either--

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

Hope was more nervous now than her had probably ever been before. What if the Hat didn't choose, but simply sat there until the professor jerked it off of her head and told her to go back home? Worse, what if it happened to Harry, and she had to stay?

"Longbottom, Neville" was next, and after the hat cried "GRYFFINDOR," Neville apparently left the hat on, because he came back and apologized to "MacDougal, Morag," who was next.

"Malfoy, Draco," was next, and Hope could practically feel the arrogance sliding off him. The Hat said "SLYTHERIN" before the rasp of cloth on hair reached her.

"Moon"..., "Nott"..., "Parkinson"..., then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"...,then "Perks, Sally-Anne"..., and then, at last-

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward (\It's bout five feet, straight ahead/), whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Hope felt Harry put the hat on, then his mind was blocked to her. He probably didn't want to spoil the surprise. \This is one surprise I can go without!//

He didn't answer.

She sighed silently, and waited.

And waited.

And waited. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Harry's Sorting seemed to be taking an extraordinarily long amount of time.

Finally, the hat said "GRYFFINDOR!" The table to the right burst into noise. It seemed to be much louder than anyone else's was.

"Potter, Hope!"

As bad as having everyone's eyes on her had been before, now it was much, much worse.

Hope could feel herself flushing as she moved forward. Certain that her cane would fall out of her sweaty hand if she used it, she left it collapsed and dangling from her wrist.

\Stop./ A hat was put into her hand, and she could feel the stool with her heel. She moved so that she could feel two of the legs, then sat.

The hat, thankfully, came down to rest on her collarbones. There was a pause, then 'my, you are a tricky one, aren't you?' sounded inside her head.

Years of silent conversations kept her from jumping off the stool in surprise. However, this voice was much different than Harry's--and she wasn't too fond of the feeling that someone was lightly brushing over her mind.

'Yes, I can talk. You would think you'd be used to this by now, what with you and your twin's connection.

Hope clutched the sides stool tightly with both hands. \Don't tell anybody,// she begged.

'Why not? Oh, you're worried that they'll take it away from you. I don't think they would--or could. But I won't tell anyone.'

\Thanks.// Her grip loosened.

'I would advise telling a few of your friends. These things tend to come out at the worst possible times if you don't tell them right away.'

\I can't.... I mean, I don't...//

'Know if you can trust them? Well, find out fast.'

\All right.//

'Now, I'm supposed to be sorting you, aren't I?'

\I guess so.//

'Hmm.' the feeling that someone was riffling through her mind increased. 'Well, you're just as difficult as your brother. A bit more, I'd say.'

\Am I supposed to be glad about that?//

The Hat ignored her. 'Very loyal to your brother, and to a few others, and certainly hardworking. You'd make a good Hufflepuff, certainly.

'Not a bad mind, either--quite a good one, in fact.

'There's some cunning, too--but not so much ruthlessness. There's the extra bonus of Parseltongue--than nearly made me place your brother in Slytherin.

'Gryffindor now--there's courage. Oh, yes, there's courage. Let me see, now...yes, it's there in you as well. And--Oh my!'

\What?//

'Oh...' the hat was beginning to sound very flustered now. 'That's... not for me to say. You'll have to find it out on your own. But, two!... maybe it should be Ravenclaw for you... but maybe not.'

\I... Hope swallowed. I'd like to go to Gryffindor, please.//

'You would? Well, that's as good as any other, I suppose. Really, it's the only thing to do even with Parseltongue and... never mind.'

"GRYFFINDOR!"


A/N Like? Love? Loathe? Review! (Yes, corny, but how else am I going to know what you think?) Constructive criticism is appreciated, praise is delightedly devoured, flames are decidedly unappreciated--for Pete's sake, people, if you don't like my fic, tell me why, don't netscream it in a dialect so peppered with cursing that it's hard to see the actual words. Thanks to shinigami for beta-ing.