Chapter 6: Wanna see a hat trick?

Hogwarts, Great Britain

"First years! First years! This way!" Hagrid shouted. The man was a hulking goliath. He stood nearly twelve feet tall, but in the dark and the rain, seemed even bigger. He was twice as wide as I was, and most of that bulk were muscles that I felt could uproot small trees. He wasn't technically allowed to do magic anymore, but that didn't make the half-giant any less imposing.

"Ah, Violet, yer 'ere!" he said, lumbering towards us. He reached down and ruffled her hair, making the already messy do look like a hippogriff nest.

"Stop that," she growled, though it sounded more like a cute whine coming from the petit girl. She did her best to swat his hand away but was physically too weak to do more than contribute to her hair-ruffling.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Beneath his massive palm, the Chosen One's head almost looked like a tennis ball. She glared heatedly at me, but that only made me laugh harder. She seemed like the kind of person who absolutely loathed being mocked no matter the reason, which was admittedly understandable.

Then something else caught my attention: the carriages. We wouldn't be using those until second year, but the beasts hitched to them were as visible as could be to me.

Thestrals, they were sometimes called death's steeds or harbingers of misfortune in magical folklore, because they could only be seen by those who had seen death. For whatever reason, Harry couldn't see them until fifth year despite having seen his mother die as an infant. I assumed it was because he consciously did not remember the night. Or perhaps, it was because as an infant, he hadn't seen the deed itself. I saw Violet's gaze glide over the "invisible" horses and figured the same applied here.

In my case, the night I "saw death" was as clear as crystal to me. It'd only been a few weeks and I'd been the one to deliver it.

The creatures looked like a mix of dragons and horses, with draconic heads and wings and fleshless bodies. Their skulls were draconic, all curves and menacing fangs. Their dark hides stretched form-fittingly over their skeletons, leaving every bone visible to the naked eye. They brought to mind stories of the Wild Hunt, Germanic and Norse folklore adopted to the British Isles. These certainly looked starved, even if I knew they were supposed to look like that.

Then their eyes met mine. Pupil-less though they were, I knew somehow that they were staring straight at me. Was it magic? Did they somehow know when their disillusionment failed on a person? Perhaps some kind of prey response or sensitivity towards being observed? Or were they so intrinsically tied to the concept of death that they recognized a kindred spirit?

Their soulless eyes stared into me and left me feeling thoroughly unsettled. I was reminded that though Luna Lovegood treated these creatures like ponies, they were carnivores and considered dangerous by the Ministry.

Harmless? Dangerous? The truth was likely somewhere in the middle; even mundane stallions were dangerous if provoked after all.

Whatever they were, they creeped me the fuck out.

"Zabini? You coming?" I heard Patil, Parvati, call.

"Y-Yeah, just… Thought I saw something," I said. I took a step but my body seized up in pain. I almost went sprawling if it wasn't for Padma catching me by the arm.

"What's gotten into you?" the quiet twin said.

I tapped my pimp cane on the ground. "Sorry, ground's a bit wet."

"Well, come on. I'll get you to the boats."

I ended up sharing a boat with the Patil twins, Parvati getting on first and taking my cane while Padma helped me step over the shallow hull. It made me feel like an invalid, though I supposed I was at the moment.

We looked back towards Neville, Leontes, and Violet. Parvati waved to them. "Come on, doesn't matter who."

"You go ahead," Longbottom said. "I think there's space with Bones and Abbot."

Violet shrugged and hopped on before waving Leontes towards Neville. Truthfully, I wasn't too sad to see the boys go; they were incredibly problematic people to associate with for someone in my position.

To be fair, I didn't care terribly what mother-dearest thought and intended to do my own thing, but that didn't mean my life wouldn't be made easier if I associated with the "right sort." The Patils were convenient in that regard, not "dark," but not "light" either thanks to their foreign roots. Their neutrality and bloodline made them uncomplicated to be around.

As the boat began to move, I whispered a quick lumos and tucked my wand behind my ear to use as a light. I opened my book and kept right on reading. Or, I tried. Five minutes later, the castle came into view and focusing became impossible.

"Woah," I heard them gasp. Then, I felt Parvati slap my shoulder. "Zabini, look! The castle!"

"Yes, I'm sure it's lovely."

"You didn't even look."

I sighed and closed my book. "Fine, I'll look. Are you hap-"

The view was breathtaking. I'd seen it in the movies plenty of times so I figured it'd be more of the same. I'd already had my sentimental "first time in the magical world" moment when I entered Diagon; I didn't need another.

But there was something about being here in the moment that made it all seem so much more mystical. Hogwarts Castle loomed over the lakeshore, its towers and arches cast in brilliant orange torches. The moon reflected off the castle, giving the entire vista an ethereal look straight out of a fae court.

It was majestic. Iconic. Maybe it sank in then, that I'd be here for seven years. I couldn't put to words the feeling that welled up inside of me.

"See? Awesome, huh?" Parvati said with a snicker. She nudged my side repeatedly and waggled her eyebrows playfully.

I snatched my wand off my ear before it could fall into the water. I reached over and jabbed her side.

Parvati practically jumped off the boat with a squeal of laughter. "Eep! Why?"

"Stop ruining the mood."

"Jerk."

"Yup. I'm evil. Now pipe down and enjoy the scenery if you're not going to let me read."

"Ugh, such a Ravenclaw."

"And what's wrong with that, sister?" Padma asked her twin pointedly.

"Ah… Nothing?"

"That's what I thought."

"Padma's kinda scary when she's mad, huh?" Violet said with a grin.

"You have no idea. It's always the quiet ones, I tell you. She's smart so she never forgets," her sister complained. At Padma's glaring, she coughed to the side and quickly changed the topic. "So, Zabini, what does it feel like when you see the future?"

"Boring. Like seeing the present, only you have to live through it twice," I drawled.

"Boo… Fine, when did you find out you had the Sight?"

I coughed awkwardly. That wasn't exactly easy to talk about and I didn't want to ruin the moment for them so I settled on obfuscation via honesty. "This summer in Portugal, when I had to spend a night with my step-aunt."

"Cool, how far can you see into the future?"

"Without a medium? About five seconds with good clarity. Really, Patil, having the Sight isn't as great as you're making it out to be."

"What? Why? It sounds awesome."

"Look, precognition is a lot like being stranded in the middle of London on a really foggy morning. You can see ten feet in front of you, maybe. There are some things that stand out through the fog, like Big Ben or the River Thames, but for the most part, things are just fuzzy. The difference between seers and non-seers isn't that seers are all-knowing, it's that seers know there is a fog in the first place."

"So… You don't know who your ideal girlfriend is?"

"Nope. Or how I'll die. Or the lotto numbers. Sorry to break it to you."

"Aww."

I smiled softly as the three girls fell into a conversation about the castle and what magic was like in India. Their conversation was all over the place, from comparing Indian and medieval Scottish architecture to hair curling charms that Parvati promised would tame Violet's messy locks. It was a weird dichotomy, with Padma trying to steer the three into talking about something more academic and Parvati tugging in the opposite direction.

Regardless, Violet seemed to be enjoying herself; this was probably one of the few friendly conversations she'd ever had with her peers.

The boat really took the scenic route, taking us on a leisurely cruise across the lake and beneath the bridge. I thought I could see the giant squid waving from beneath the water, but it could have just been the ripple of moonlight scattered on the surface.

Eventually, the boats did reach that little alcove next to the great hall and we disembarked. I nearly stumbled again and hopped out of the boat but managed to stick the landing.

Our heavy coats kept most of the drizzle off, but I almost wished for someone to show off how cool and powerful they were with a warming charm for the rest of us. Alas, I lacked the charms affinity to make the attempt and there weren't any other isekai protagonists around that I knew of.

We were just settling in to wait awkwardly when the walls burst forth with a parade of Hogwarts ghosts. There were dozens of them, dressed in finery from all throughout the centuries, but my eyes were fixed on four in particular.

Nearly Headless Nick led the charge, probably the closest he'd ever get to joining the Headless Hunt. The ghosts of Helena Ravenclaw and the Bloody Baron marched solemnly on either side, as far from each other as they could possibly get. The Fat Friar, as per the values of his house, stuck around for a while after the ghostly host had passed, chatting and welcoming the students to the castle proper.

I had to give it to him, the man did a great job of breaking the ice. The teenage awkwardness of standing around with thirty-nine other kids you didn't know was more or less gone now, leading to much of the conversation I'd expected.

"My older brothers say we have to fight a troll to prove ourselves," said a ginger boy who could only be Ron. He was tall, taller than me by a good six inches, and broad-shouldered. He sounded skeptical himself but willing to share one ridiculous guess to top the last.

"No way, mate," another boy said. "I'm telling you; it's a test."

"What test? I didn't expect a test for the sorting, but that makes too much sense, doesn't it?" Leontes stammered. "Aw, bollocks, all our books are still on the train!"

That got a laugh out of me. "Relax, Granger," I called, lifting the head of my cobra-cane in a jaunty wave. "The sorting isn't a test, though the troll thing… maybe…"

"Liar," Padma accused. "Stop scaring the muggleborns. A troll has magic-resistant skin and stands twelve feet tall. There's no way that's the sorting ceremony."

"You're right, Patil. Don't worry about the troll. It really doesn't concern you."

It was a neat bit of foreshadowing on Rowling's part, one she didn't get enough credit for. Ron claimed the sorting might involve wrestling a troll. It didn't of course, but he and Harry did indeed end up fighting one for Hermione's sake. Whether that'd happen this time around or not was up in the air, but… maybe…

I allowed the easy conversation to wash over me as my schoolmates introduced themselves to one another. They talked about all sorts of things, from quidditch to house cups and upcoming classes. None of them interested me much, my cryptic warning given for the evening, until I heard a familiar voice call out to Potter.

Really, I'd expected this conversation on the train, but it was just as well. One way or another, the pair seemed fated in their own little way.

"I heard Potter's in our year. Is that you?" I heard a clear, bell-like voice say. I turned to find the dickless ferret herself, Lyra Malfoy.

I wasn't being fair to her. She was very pretty, with straight, blonde hair and icy-blue eyes. She stood at about chin-height to myself and had the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers. She wore a set of earrings made of gold and sapphires, worth a fortune. A similarly jeweled hair clip kept her bangs out of her eyes and framed her face elegantly.

Even with the standards set by my mother and her armory of magical beautifying products, I could honestly say Lyra Malfoy was one of the most attractive girls I'd ever seen, in both lives. Throw in her family wealth and it wasn't hard to guess why boys catered to her every whim.

The only thing marring her beauty was the smug smirk on her face that I knew was meant to be disarming but instead looked overly self-satisfied. She couldn't quite pull off Narcissa Malfoy's trademark smile yet. She stopped right in front of Violet and waited.

Violet, in a manner I was starting to realize was typical of her, rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms across her chest and stared Malfoy down like she'd done to Granger. She held the silence until Lyra visibly started to squirm with discomfort.

When she showed the first signs of cracking, Violet spoke, "Who wants to know?"

"Lyra Malfoy." She looked at myself and the Patil twins. She nodded imperceptibly towards me in acknowledgement and stuck out her hand. "I see you've found some of the right sort. Patil and Zabini aren't bad, but you could do better. I can help you with that."

I could see the explosion coming a mile away, seer abilities unnecessary. Violet grew up a neglected and lonely girl. By contrast, Lyra had everything Violet ever wanted, namely a good home and loving parents. The presence or absence of a penis wasn't going to change that.

Of course, Violet didn't know that, but every gesture on Lyra's part screamed entitlement. Those few sentences already had her associating the pureblood heiress with her relatives, the kinds of people who sought to control her, told her what to do, and liked to put others down to feel better about themselves.

"Right sort, eh?" she hummed. She then leaned forward until her nose was inches away from Lyra's and whispered, just loud enough for us to hear. "The right sort is whoever the bloody hell I feel like talking to, thanks. Piss off, princess."

Lyra's face took on an interesting shade of red as she processed her words. The most amusing part of all this for me wasn't that their interaction seemed predestined, it might have been for all I knew, but that this was Lyra's attempt at making friends.

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She implied that Violet's reputation was important enough to catch her attention, introduced herself, and offered a potential ally a clear service she could provide: information regarding magical society. Which, to be fair, Violet needed. Lyra had done as she'd been taught. She'd even foregone much of the manners of noble society in favor of something befitting schoolmates.

Then she ran smack dab into the wall of teen moxie and spite that was Violet.

This scene was even funnier now that I knew the subtext. I couldn't help it; I giggled. I tried to be quiet, but I couldn't manage it. Soon, both girls were glowering at me.

"Oh, think that's funny, do you, Zabini?" Lyra scowled. She'd never been the butt of a joke before, her beauty and wealth made sure of that. Put on the spot like this, she didn't really know how to handle it.

"Wow, I really should have expected this," I said with a cough to clear my throat. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, I didn't mean to laugh. I do find this funny, but not for the reason you think. Please don't mind me."

"Hmph, seems you've found her on the train. Getting started early, are we?"

"Are… Are you implying that I'm trying to groom Potter so I can marry, fuck, and eventually murder her for her inheritance?"

Faced with blunt oversharing, Lyra did what most people did and backpedaled. "What? No!"

"If you are, just say what you mean, Malfoy. No need to tap dance around it, everyone knows who my mother is," I drawled. I smiled serenely as the entire hall fell silent.

"That wasn't what I said."

"You didn't. I said it for you. I don't mind." I placed an elbow on Violet's shoulder and leaned in with a conspirational wink. "Hear that, Potter? I'm coming for your vault, in more ways than one."

She snorted and shoved my arm off her shoulder, making me stumble on my cane. "Hilarious. You're a right prat, Zabini."

"I am. To everyone. You. Malfoy. Patils if I can ever tell them apart-"

"Hey!" Parvati complained. "I'm the pretty one."

"She thinks she's the pretty one. Whereas I'm definitely the smart one," Padma corrected primly.

I nodded amiably. She wasn't wrong. "Right, just know I find you both funny for my own reasons. I think I hear McGonagall coming. Sorting's up; better start prepping for that troll. I recommend indirect spells, by the way."

X

The deputy headmistress came, gave us her spiel about the four houses, and led us into the great hall.

The hall was beautiful, with the famed ceiling that reflected the stormy sky outside. In truth, seeing it for myself left me feeling thoroughly unimpressed. I knew of course that it was a masterpiece of enchanting and charms-work. It had lasted for as long as the castle, an incredible feat in and of itself.

And yet…

"A skylight," I muttered as I heard Granger chatter about reading about it in Hogwarts: A History. "The Founders built a skylight. Let's not get too excited…"

Overhyped though the ceiling was, I had to admit, there was a certain ambiance here that was hard to describe. It was the hundreds of candles that floated through the air and the sound of the Hogwarts Choir as they sang an emotional ballad about new beginnings. It was the rapt attention paid to us from our seniors, the gaze of our professors as they took our measure. It all charged the air with eager anticipation and celebratory cheer that was at once uplifting and made us march proud with our backs straight.

When we were gathered in front of the hall, the hat broke into his traditional song:

{Oh, you might be expecting

Some stupid fucking song

About the four houses here,

But that's too fucking long.

You know this one already,

Shit's just exposition,

So let's skip this boring number,

And move on with narration.}

The hall burst into applause and I wondered what he thought about the rest of the year. Did he spend the whole year thinking of words that rhyme with the four houses? Because that sounded like a special brand of hell I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemies. Or did he simply go into stasis like a painting that hadn't been spoken to in a while?

Or, if this was a terribly written fanfiction, maybe he was the representative of a sentient castle? The Will of Hogwarts who had untold powers and privileges bestowed upon him by the Founders. That'd certainly make my life easier. I could just invoke some secret ritual, have Violet take an inheritance test from strangely helpful goblins to become Lady Potter-Black-Peverell-Gryffindor-Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw-Slytherin, and take down Voldemort with the help of Slytherin's portrait, which would conveniently be hidden inside the Chamber of Secrets waiting for the "true heir of magic" or somesuch.

I felt an elbow jab into my side. "You're smiling like a loon, Zabini," Violet muttered.

"Don't worry about it, just plotting a few murders here and there," I whispered back.

"Bloody nuts, I swear."

"Abbott, Hannah!" I heard McGonagall call.

"Hufflepuff," I muttered under my breath. A few seconds later, I heard the hat call the same. Violet eyed me funny so I smirked back at her. "Lucky guess."

"Bones, Susan!" The niece of Amelia Bones walked up the steps. She was a pale, slightly pudgy redhead. She'd grow up to be a fierce witch in her own right, one of Harry's greatest allies in the house of badgers, but that was nowhere to be seen now. Now, she was shaking with nerves and almost jumped when McGonagall placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Totally a Puff."

"Might be a Gryff," she countered with an amused glint in her eye. "She's a redhead, has to have a temper."

"But is that courage?"

"Eh, it might be."

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted from atop Susan's head.

"Rats."

"Boot, Terry!" McGonagall called.

"Raven," I said. A second later, the hat proclaimed the same.

"Brown, Lavender!" This time, a bubbly blonde all but skipped onto the stage.

"Gryff," Violet declared. "She's too confident."

"I agree with you," I hummed.

Sure enough, the hat called for the house of lions and their table went wild in celebration. Then McGonagall summoned the first canonical snake to the stool. "Crabbe, Vincent!"

The boy was big, a full head taller than me despite being in the same year. He was also fat, though I could see a layer of muscle beneath it all. He looked like he'd make a great linebacker if he bothered to put in the hours.

The Crabbes were of middling importance in pureblood society, not because of any real wealth or influence, but because of the way they served families far more important than themselves, namely Malfoy.

From what I could remember of mother's lessons, the Crabbe patriarch, alongside the Goyle's acted as enforcers for Lucius Malfoy because his father, Abraxas Malfoy, paid for their ministry positions or something. It was a decades old arrangement, though one that seemed to be losing steam somewhat because of Lyra's gender.

Which wasn't to say they didn't take orders from her, they did, or would if she bothered to give any. They were undoubtedly told by their parents to keep the Malfoy heiress happy. The problem was, Lyra herself saw them as "gross, smelly, and stupid," her words. She, like many teenage girls, concluded that having them following after her like the world's ugliest pugs wasn't a good look and effectively let them out into the wild.

"Slytherin," I whispered.

"Why?"

"Hat says it's about our inner qualities. I don't think that's true. I think the hat sorts us based on the qualities we value most."

"They're the same thing much of the time."

"Yup. But if a family has been in one house for centuries…"

"The kid grows up thinking that house is greatest and so gets sorted there," she finished for me. "Huh, any others like that?"

"Bones and Abbot were two legacies," I confirmed. "A lot of pureblood houses are like that."

"And yours?"

"Mom's the only Hogwarts graduate. Dad went to Durmstrang."

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat interrupted us.

I gave Violet a knowing wink, which she responded to with a short raspberry. By now, our little game had caught on a bit, which was good considering I wanted to market my services. A bit of a demonstration was necessary.

The ones who were sorted early, and wouldn't get to hear me do this, would no doubt hear the rumors of a true seer wandering around. People were likely to say that the feat was easier than implied because a lot of old houses were shoe-ins for one house or another, but it'd still send tongues wagging, especially since my name came last and I could run the full gamut.

The next name got called and we continued our game, this time with a few more participants.

"Anyway, I'm going to Slytherin because I value my ambition more than the other virtues, not because mom's a graduate."

"So where am I going?"

I considered what I knew of her. She'd be great in Slytherin, that much was obvious. Not only was she a parselmouth, she proved to be fairly observant of people and seemed like the kind of girl who could be viciously cunning when motivated. She'd also fit in with Gryffindor considering how impulsively she'd responded to Leontes and Lyra.

"That depends," I told her.

"On what?"

"On how much you value greatness."

"That's not an answer."

"Of course it is. It's a perfectly seer-like answer. Cryptic and makes zero bloody sense until you sit up there."

"And you'll pretend you got it right no matter what," she accused.

"Yup. Just remember, I'm for sale."

She snorted. "You sound like a manwhore."

"Shameless," I agreed.

More joined in on our little guessing game, though I was the only one who continued to get full marks. Some were obvious to me, like Goyle, while others, I had to cheat a bit, invoking my power to see a few seconds ahead and simply speak ahead of the sorting hat.

The Patil twins were separated, as per canon. They didn't seem terribly surprised by this. Though they had a good relationship with one another, they were very different people and they acknowledged that. I saw Padma and Parvati making signs at each other from their respective tables, promising to hang out later no doubt.

Then it came.

"Potter, Violet!"

X

Violet Potter

Hogwarts, Great Britain

How the bloody hell did two words silence the entire hall like this? I'd thought the bullshit I had to put up with at the Leaky Cauldron would be the worst of it, but nooo, teens turned out to be as bad as the adults.

Where was the belligerence and fuck-it-all attitude? Why the hell did they give a damn about something that happened before they stopped shitting themselves?

It was all so strange. Back in Surrey, my scar made me a freak. I'd taken the label and ran with it, becoming a delinquent so my fat lard of a cousin would leave me alone. I became "different" enough to belong with the outcasts.

Here, my scar made me a hero. I just wished I remembered, then maybe I'd at least know what my parents looked like. Uncle Vernon said they were shitty people who died in a car accident. Turned out, they died fighting for me. I should've known anything that fat fuck said was suspect.

I felt a lot like an elephant at a circus as I made my way towards the stool. Sure, half the bloody students in my year had been sorted already, but it was obvious everyone was waiting on mine. No one gave a damn that Lyra Malfoy went to Slytherin before the hat even touched her. Me though? I could practically hear every mouth-breather take a deep breath.

The hat dropped down, almost big enough to slide over my eyes. I almost wished it did, then I wouldn't have to see the stares. Then my eyes met Blaise's.

And wasn't he baffling.

He was an ass but hadn't acted like he wanted to sniff my knickers or save clippings of my hair. He was also apparently a seer, one who knew about my uncle and aunt. Or at least, knew enough to stop talking. I didn't know how common that was, but the thought that random people could just… know things… about me made me deeply uncomfortable.

'No worries there, Miss Potter,' a strange voice spoke into my mind. I started, almost throwing the hat off my head, but a warm chuckle filled the void. 'Relax. I'm the sorting hat. I speak no secrets. And to answer your question, seers are extremely rare.'

"So he's-"

'In your mind, if you please. I can hear you just fine.'

'Fine, so Blaise is a seer? For real?'

'From what you've seen of him, that does seem to be the case.'

'He was lying.'

'Hmm?'

'The five seconds rule he gave Parvati on the boat. He also said on the train, "Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak." That wasn't nothing.'

'It could be nonsense, you know.'

'He seemed to know enough about me. I'm not taking anything he says for granted.'

'Wise, though I must warn you, people have a bad habit of misinterpreting prophecies. Heed his counsel if it suits you, but never rely on it.'

'Yeah, he's a colossal prat who enjoys confusing other people. I figured. So, where am I going?'

'Well, that depends,' the hat said coyly. I didn't know a hat could do that. Then again, I didn't know hats could sing until tonight either.

'Oh, god, if you say something about the value of greatness, I'm going to fill you with dog shit.'

'Rude, especially because I know you mean it. Alas, your seer friend-'

'He's not my friend,' I huffed. Those were rarely worth it. I didn't know what he was. He was a prat. And he knew too much. But talking to him… hadn't been bad…

'Your "seer acquaintance,"' the hat continued, this time all but rolling his eyes at me, 'speaks true. Slytherin can make you great.'

'And that just happens to be where you're sending Blaise.'

'Perhaps, perhaps not. I've yet to see into his head. Don't mind him, mind your own sorting, Miss Potter. You've a cunning mind should you choose to apply yourself. Slytherin truly could make you great.'

'And the other options?'

'Gryffindor, for you have plenty of courage. Brave, though some might say "bullheaded" is the better descriptor. Upright, a deep sense of justice, though at the cost of the letter of the law at times.'

'Yeah, well, laws are used to protect the big guy, not little ol' me.'

'Yes, Holly told you that. Your first true friend.' This time, I didn't correct him. He was right. Holly had been the very first person to side with me over Dudley. The memory of her kneeing the fatass in the dick never failed to make me laugh. 'Real spunk on that one, though I would caution you; morality and justice are more complicated than your rebellious friend likes to assume.'

'Well, fuck you too, Mr. Hat. What about the other two?'

'Do you consider yourself wise?'

'Fuck no.'

'Then that is Ravenclaw out. Hufflepuff is a better fit, though I suspect your "lone wolf" demeanor will go down poorly with them.'

'Blaise said you sort by what we value, not what we are.'

'And he was right, to a point,' the hat acknowledged, 'but your values are just one of several factors I take into consideration. Your ability to fit in with the culture of the house is another.'

'And that's not me.'

'No, it is not.'

'So Gryffindor and Slytherin?'

'Indeed, Miss Potter. Which shall it be? The house of the brave, or the house of the cunning?'

I stared out at the crowd. The sorting was getting long, at least three times as long as anyone else's. That feeling of being a circus elephant increased along with the whispers that filled the hall. I found my gaze drawn to Blaise again.

That smug asshole had his signature cocky smirk on his face. He was leaning on his cane and offered me a knowing nod, like he knew exactly what we were talking about.

Maybe he did.

Either way, that smirk made me want to kick his stupid cane from out under him so I could watch him hobble around for a while.

'You don't mean that. You are vindictive, not senselessly cruel.'

'Yeah, well, maybe the cripple deserves someone laughing at him for a change.'

'I'm sure you'll find plenty of reasons to laugh at him. It's what friends do, I hear.'

'Not friends,' I huffed, but there was no heat in it. He was… complicated. Patil twins? Great, but Parvati was too chatty. Longbottom? Pudgy puppy. Granger? Annoying, geeky fanboy. Malfoy? Prissy, entitled cunt. Zabini? He defied easy categorization and it bothered me.

'The world seldom fits into our neat, little boxes, Miss Potter. Now, if you don't mind…'

'Yeah, sorry, but you know my answer, don't you? You're in my head.'

The hat chuckled. 'So I do, Miss Potter. Slytherin can make you great, but greatness has never been your desire. No, you did not feel a surge of ambition at my proclamation; you felt trepidation at the thought of yet more burdens. Slytherin could make you great, but it's not the only path forward. I do hope you'll sharpen this wit of yours as well as your courage in GRYFFINDOR!'

The hat's sudden shout caught me by surprise. The following cheer from the red table didn't exactly help either.

"We got Potter! We got Potter!" I heard a pair of gingers yell. They even got up and did a little jig, like getting me in their house was some kind of prize or something.

"Is it too late to switch?" I asked the hat. The rumpled garment didn't reply, and Professor McGonagall nudged me towards my new house.

I sighed and resigned myself to more handshaking and whatnot. I met Blaise's eyes and the smug cripple gave me a jaunty wave even as someone handed him a galleon.

I sat down next to Parvati. Truthfully, she wasn't bad. She was a tad loud, but it was nice to have a friendly face. I used her as a buffer as more and more teens did their best to demand my time. They kept introducing themselves, as if I could learn all their names in a few seconds. It was a relief when the professor finally continued their sorting.

Parvati and I didn't watch the stool, we watched Blaise.

He was a character. It was fascinating. He seemed to get visibly tipsier, like Uncle Vernon after a few drinks. Except there was no alcohol to be had. He leaned more on his cane as the sorting went on and I wondered just what he needed it for exactly.

Similarly, the students around him became increasingly dumbfounded. We couldn't hear him from where we were sitting, but it was obvious why: He'd probably continued his guessing game.

"Think he'll get them all?" Parvati asked.

"No contest," I said. "He's a prat, but he's the real deal. Even the hat thinks so."

"The hat? You talked to it about him?"

"It just looked in my mind, but yeah."

"So it's true then?" Longbottom said. Our eyes turned to the pudgy pupper and he immediately looked down nervously. He introduced himself again, though it came off as a nervous tick. "Sorry, I'm Neville Longbottom, but you can call me Neville. People have been saying Zabini is a seer."

"He is," Parvati said. "He's been guessing where everyone's going and hasn't failed once."

"I see…"

The three of us continued to watch the sorting. Until finally, Zabini was the only one standing in the middle of the hall.

When his name was called, he didn't walk so much as he stumbled up there. He didn't seem to be in pain, but it was clear that he wasn't in full control of his limbs either.

After a long several minutes, almost as long as mine, the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

"He predicted his own house too," Parvati said with an impressed hum. "So, full marks?"

"Full marks," I agreed. "He's still a jerk."

"He is."

Once we were all seated, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up for a second. He carried on with some announcements about forbidden items, a forbidden forest, and, brand new apparently, a forbidden corridor.

Finally, he held out his hands as if in benediction, and said, "Now, I have but four final words for you before we begin the feast: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

My eyes found Parvati's, only to flicker to Granger, and then to Padma across the hall. The four of us whirled to find Blaise at the Slytherin table, but he'd rested his head on his arms. Then, as if feeling our gazes on him, he raised his head and offered us that same, cheeky smirk.

"He lied to me!" Parvati yelled. "You said five seconds! You liar!"

Author's Note

This got a bit long, but I feel like splitting it would have been a disservice so you get this.

Hagrid is canonically 11' 6", more than two feet taller than the tallest man ever, Robert Wadlow.

I write a lot of dialogue. I feel like because these scenes are so well-treaded in both canon and fanon, the only way I can make them seem a little less stale is to do a lot of talking. I've taken the PWP approach in a way: Throw in a bunch of fanon references and tropes into the pot and see what comes out.

While nothing changed as far as houses went, it's worth noting that Violet doesn't have an ingrained animosity towards Slytherin here for three reasons: First, her conversation with Ron didn't happen. Second, Blaise took on some of the tension from Violet and Lyra's first meeting. And third, Blaise himself is in Slytherin, and she's got a lot of mixed (though not negative) feelings about him.

As for Blaise's own sorting, I decided to skip over it. The isekai protagonist always has a chat with the hat where the hat promises not to tell anyone and whatnot. I figured we could ignore that bit and move on.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.