Status: so hi guys
But, Dad...
The Sorting
After getting over the initial awkwardness of our fathers' past rivalry, Albus and I chat casually on the train, and we get about ten chocolate frogs each when the cart stops by. Of course, the majority end up being either Albus Dumbledoor or Harry Potter- both of which cause my new friend to flush and stutter out something along the lines of, "I hate having to live up to these standards, I feel like I'm constantly in their shadows."
To which I only reach across and touch his hand lightly. "It's okay."
He smiles, relieved, and I bite back the, I bet Father would be able to relate.
I've heard plenty of stories about how terrible Granddad was. I think that's why Father is always so sensitive around me. I'm not afraid to admit: I'm spoiled rotten. Of course, he's always had those few limits, making sure I don't actually go rotten.
He thinks I'll be in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but I don't think I'm smart enough to be in the blue-flagged house. When I voice this to Albus (Potter, not Dumbledoor [obviously]) he smiles and says, "I want to be in Gryffindor, like Dad and Mum, but I'm scared I'll be in Slytherin. Dad just says it'll mean I have great ambition or something."
Of course, the downtalk about my father's Hogwarts house makes me turn up my nose a little (Malfoy trait, I'm told) and munch silently on a chocolate.
Soon enough, however, the train lurches to a stop, and we follow the half-giant, Hagrid, out to the entrance for first-years. The boats make me somewhat nauseous, but it's all over quickly enough.
By the time we get to the Sorting Hat, Albus is nervously shifting back and forth next to me. I reach out and grip his black school robe, not only for my own reassurance but also to get him to just stop moving.
The Hat sorts in alphabetical order- that means I'm before him. When my name is called, the first 'M' on the list, Al shoots me a small smile, and I cautiously make my way up to the hat.
Hmm, another Malfoy... you're still a pureblood family, I see... hmmm..
I hold my breath, nerves wracking through my veins.
I suppose you'll want to be in Slytherin... the Hat murmurs in my head.
I think back, I'd prefer it.
But I think you'd be much better somewhere else.... hmm...
My knuckles are white from gripping the stool I'm perched on.
At last, the rugged brown talking hat shouts, "Gryffindor!"
My breath catches, and my thoughts mirror words being murmured throughout the Great Hall:
A Malfoy in Gryffindor?
To which I only reach across and touch his hand lightly. "It's okay."
He smiles, relieved, and I bite back the, I bet Father would be able to relate.
I've heard plenty of stories about how terrible Granddad was. I think that's why Father is always so sensitive around me. I'm not afraid to admit: I'm spoiled rotten. Of course, he's always had those few limits, making sure I don't actually go rotten.
He thinks I'll be in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but I don't think I'm smart enough to be in the blue-flagged house. When I voice this to Albus (Potter, not Dumbledoor [obviously]) he smiles and says, "I want to be in Gryffindor, like Dad and Mum, but I'm scared I'll be in Slytherin. Dad just says it'll mean I have great ambition or something."
Of course, the downtalk about my father's Hogwarts house makes me turn up my nose a little (Malfoy trait, I'm told) and munch silently on a chocolate.
Soon enough, however, the train lurches to a stop, and we follow the half-giant, Hagrid, out to the entrance for first-years. The boats make me somewhat nauseous, but it's all over quickly enough.
By the time we get to the Sorting Hat, Albus is nervously shifting back and forth next to me. I reach out and grip his black school robe, not only for my own reassurance but also to get him to just stop moving.
The Hat sorts in alphabetical order- that means I'm before him. When my name is called, the first 'M' on the list, Al shoots me a small smile, and I cautiously make my way up to the hat.
Hmm, another Malfoy... you're still a pureblood family, I see... hmmm..
I hold my breath, nerves wracking through my veins.
I suppose you'll want to be in Slytherin... the Hat murmurs in my head.
I think back, I'd prefer it.
But I think you'd be much better somewhere else.... hmm...
My knuckles are white from gripping the stool I'm perched on.
At last, the rugged brown talking hat shouts, "Gryffindor!"
My breath catches, and my thoughts mirror words being murmured throughout the Great Hall:
A Malfoy in Gryffindor?
♠ ♠ ♠
xo