[Fic] The Sorting
November 28th, 2007 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shimotsukiTitle: The Sorting
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shimotsuki
Word count: 1539 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Minerva has always been a Gryffindor. She has never been a coward. But tonight she is expected to come face to face with her new Headmaster, and she is not at all sure that she can go through with it.
Author's note: For the "Lost and Found 2007" challenge atundesirable_no3.
The Sorting
Minerva stood, watching the shadows from the torchlight flicker across a heavy door set into the ancient stone wall.
All she needed to do was open that door, and everything would start.
It was ridiculous—and cowardly—to hesitate. How hard could it possibly be to do something she'd been doing every year for decades?
...Very hard, she admitted silently. Maybe even impossible.
But then the sudden sensation of a ghost's hand on her shoulder, like an ice-bath ambush, startled her out of her dark thoughts. "Well now, Professor," said Nearly Headless Nick, a little too jovially. "Let's show them some Gryffindor spirit, eh?"
Minerva freed the breath that had caught in her throat. "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall with the other ghosts, Sir Nicholas?" She was vastly relieved to hear that her voice sounded just as stern as ever, and the prim frown she produced felt normal as well.
"I'm on my way," Nick assured her, but he took his own sweet time floating across the entrance hall, turning around to watch her again.
There was nothing for it. Minerva opened the door and stepped through.
Most years, behind the door, she would find chatter and giggles and even the occasional prank war. This year, the students were taciturn and wary, looking at each other sideways, turning to watch her with wide eyes and tense faces. Minerva wondered, just for a moment, why every single one of them seemed to know what was going on. And then she understood.
This year, those who wouldn't have known had not been allowed to board the Hogwarts Express at all.
"Welcome." Her words rang out clear and firm. "If you will please form a line and follow me, we will proceed to the Sorting Ceremony."
She led them out of the antechamber, across the entrance hall, and through the massive double doors into the Great Hall, where the enchanted ceiling showed a late summer sky with a thick dusting of stars and the tiniest hint of a crescent moon. The vast space, filled with students and flickering candles, was strangely silent. Whispers and stares had replaced the usual high-spirited chatter, even at the Slytherin table.
What sort of Hogwarts was she leading these students into?
But it couldn't be helped. If she refused to do it, then someone else would.
Minerva held her head high and forced her eyes to meet—
Nothing.
She permitted herself a small sigh of relief as she led the first years up onto the dais at the front of the room. There was nothing at the centre of the High Table but an empty chair. She countered the cold, cruel, and rather stupid stares of Amycus and Alecto Carrow with a quelling glare of her own and turned to face the students and the Sorting Hat. The Carrows would be difficult to deal with, yes, but difficult was not impossible. She had never trusted them only to have her trust flung back in her face like a Killing Curse.
The Hat sang its song for the year. Minerva barely listened, shaking her head impatiently as it insisted that knowledge, ambition, loyalty, and courage could take root in any House, and true friends could be found in unexpected places. Clearly the Hat was insufficiently acquainted with current events.
The Sorting itself seemed to take no time at all. There were fewer first years than there should have been, fewer than the number of names written in the book in Albus's—that is to say, the Headmaster's—office. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Slytherin received its usual number of new students, but the other three Houses all looked somewhat depleted.
There were other empty seats at the House tables, too, where students had decided not to return to school, or had been forced to stay away. Minerva found her eyes drawn to Gryffindor. Remus Lupin had warned her what to expect, and Granger wouldn't have been allowed to return in any case, but the absence of Weasley and Potter sent a shiver down her spine nonetheless.
Still, there were other eyes at that table that met hers. Miss Weasley's were hard and blazing. And next to her—Minerva blinked. For the first time ever, Frank Longbottom's unshakable resolution was gazing at her out of Alice Macmillan's friendly, open face.
As the last of the new students, a Miss Yarrow, made her way to the Ravenclaw table, Minerva hesitated. The Headmaster's ornate chair was still empty. She was about to turn to the students and open the Welcoming Feast herself when the slam of a door shattered the unnatural silence of the Great Hall.
Severus Snape strode across the dais, black cloak flapping behind him, and a low, excited murmur filled the Hall at last. The appointment of the new Headmaster had been announced in the Prophet, and his name had been on the revised version of the booklists and Hogwarts letters, but this was the first that anyone had actually seen him since that night. Minerva quickly took her own seat at the Deputy Headmistress's place, next to—next to where Albus should have been. Bitter anger roiled in her stomach.
Severus—no, Snape—stopped behind the ornate golden chair that was now his and gripped the back with both hands. Ignoring the teachers, he looked out at the four House tables. "We welcome all of you to Hogwarts." The murmuring stopped at once. "You are here because you deserve to be here, and we trust that all of you will strive to uphold the honour and traditions of this fine school."
Minerva felt her gorge rise. There were other students who deserved to be here, too, and she wasn't even sure if all of them were alive. She forced herself to swallow and took slow, deep breaths.
"The illustrious Sorting Hat has just sung the praises of each House in turn, I am sure," Snape continued silkily. "But this year, you would all do well to take a page from the Slytherins' book." He scanned the sea of upturned faces, his gaze finally coming to rest, as Minerva's had, at the Gryffindor table. "Each of you should look out for yourself, first and foremost. Stay out of trouble. Don't become entangled in any reckless schemes. Respect your teachers, and study hard." His hands seemed to clench on the back of his chair. "Behave as you should, and no one will come to any harm."
Snape paused a moment, letting the echoes of his words fade into the silence that had thickened with tension. The students stared, shocked by the scarcely veiled threat.
"And now," he continued, with a small sly smile, "let the feast begin."
Heaping platters of food appeared on all the tables. The students turned away and began to help themselves, finally chattering at a level that felt almost normal, if slightly frenzied. But Snape remained standing. He almost seemed to be frozen in place, staring down at the Headmaster's chair, gripping the back of it so tightly that his knuckles shone white in the candlelight.
"Go on then, Headmaster," Alecto Carrow called out. "Sit down, so we can start!"
Something akin to a bitter sneer twisted Snape's face. Minerva heard the scrape of his chair on the floor, and then he dropped into his seat.
It was all she could do not to shrink away. Spy. Traitor. Cold-blooded murderer.
And then, the moment she'd been dreading more than anything finally came. "Minerva," said the low, dangerous voice.
Her stomach turned to ice. She needed to be here at Hogwarts; she had to carry on. After all, she'd promised Albus that, no matter what happened, she would look after the children. But—she didn't think there was any way she could look Snape in the eye. She simply couldn't face him, not after the depth of his betrayal. How could she possibly spend every day in the same castle with this traitor that she'd known—or thought she'd known—since he was a boy?
In her desperation, her gaze found the Gryffindor table again. With a jolt of surprise, she realized that Longbottom was watching her. He slowly raised his chin. And then—quicker than a Kneazle chasing a mouse—he winked.
With great difficulty, Minerva kept her eyes from widening and her jaw from dropping. But a quiet warmth spread from her heart down to the tips of her fingers and her toes. If Neville Longbottom was willing to stand up to the new regime, surely she could find a way to do the same.
Drawing a very deep breath, Minerva turned to Snape and met his glittering black stare full on. For an instant, she almost thought she saw—regret? But she must have been mistaken, just as she was when she thought she saw remorse sixteen years ago, or a glimmer of friendship from time to time since then.
She set her jaw. "I'm warning you, Severus, that I will do everything in my power to see that no students are harmed at school this year."
He looked at her for a long moment, his face expressionless now, his dark eyes unreadable.
"Indeed, Minerva," he said at last. "I would expect nothing less."
. * fin *.
"Under the Long Shadow" series index
.
Author:
shimotsukiWord count: 1539 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Minerva has always been a Gryffindor. She has never been a coward. But tonight she is expected to come face to face with her new Headmaster, and she is not at all sure that she can go through with it.
Author's note: For the "Lost and Found 2007" challenge at
undesirable_no3.Prompts: Character - Minerva McGonagall | Lost - heart | Found - resolution
And when will I meet my end?
In a better time you could be my friend
—Keane, "A Bad Dream"
And when will I meet my end?
In a better time you could be my friend
—Keane, "A Bad Dream"
Minerva stood, watching the shadows from the torchlight flicker across a heavy door set into the ancient stone wall.
All she needed to do was open that door, and everything would start.
It was ridiculous—and cowardly—to hesitate. How hard could it possibly be to do something she'd been doing every year for decades?
...Very hard, she admitted silently. Maybe even impossible.
But then the sudden sensation of a ghost's hand on her shoulder, like an ice-bath ambush, startled her out of her dark thoughts. "Well now, Professor," said Nearly Headless Nick, a little too jovially. "Let's show them some Gryffindor spirit, eh?"
Minerva freed the breath that had caught in her throat. "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall with the other ghosts, Sir Nicholas?" She was vastly relieved to hear that her voice sounded just as stern as ever, and the prim frown she produced felt normal as well.
"I'm on my way," Nick assured her, but he took his own sweet time floating across the entrance hall, turning around to watch her again.
There was nothing for it. Minerva opened the door and stepped through.
Most years, behind the door, she would find chatter and giggles and even the occasional prank war. This year, the students were taciturn and wary, looking at each other sideways, turning to watch her with wide eyes and tense faces. Minerva wondered, just for a moment, why every single one of them seemed to know what was going on. And then she understood.
This year, those who wouldn't have known had not been allowed to board the Hogwarts Express at all.
"Welcome." Her words rang out clear and firm. "If you will please form a line and follow me, we will proceed to the Sorting Ceremony."
She led them out of the antechamber, across the entrance hall, and through the massive double doors into the Great Hall, where the enchanted ceiling showed a late summer sky with a thick dusting of stars and the tiniest hint of a crescent moon. The vast space, filled with students and flickering candles, was strangely silent. Whispers and stares had replaced the usual high-spirited chatter, even at the Slytherin table.
What sort of Hogwarts was she leading these students into?
But it couldn't be helped. If she refused to do it, then someone else would.
Minerva held her head high and forced her eyes to meet—
Nothing.
She permitted herself a small sigh of relief as she led the first years up onto the dais at the front of the room. There was nothing at the centre of the High Table but an empty chair. She countered the cold, cruel, and rather stupid stares of Amycus and Alecto Carrow with a quelling glare of her own and turned to face the students and the Sorting Hat. The Carrows would be difficult to deal with, yes, but difficult was not impossible. She had never trusted them only to have her trust flung back in her face like a Killing Curse.
The Hat sang its song for the year. Minerva barely listened, shaking her head impatiently as it insisted that knowledge, ambition, loyalty, and courage could take root in any House, and true friends could be found in unexpected places. Clearly the Hat was insufficiently acquainted with current events.
The Sorting itself seemed to take no time at all. There were fewer first years than there should have been, fewer than the number of names written in the book in Albus's—that is to say, the Headmaster's—office. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Slytherin received its usual number of new students, but the other three Houses all looked somewhat depleted.
There were other empty seats at the House tables, too, where students had decided not to return to school, or had been forced to stay away. Minerva found her eyes drawn to Gryffindor. Remus Lupin had warned her what to expect, and Granger wouldn't have been allowed to return in any case, but the absence of Weasley and Potter sent a shiver down her spine nonetheless.
Still, there were other eyes at that table that met hers. Miss Weasley's were hard and blazing. And next to her—Minerva blinked. For the first time ever, Frank Longbottom's unshakable resolution was gazing at her out of Alice Macmillan's friendly, open face.
As the last of the new students, a Miss Yarrow, made her way to the Ravenclaw table, Minerva hesitated. The Headmaster's ornate chair was still empty. She was about to turn to the students and open the Welcoming Feast herself when the slam of a door shattered the unnatural silence of the Great Hall.
Severus Snape strode across the dais, black cloak flapping behind him, and a low, excited murmur filled the Hall at last. The appointment of the new Headmaster had been announced in the Prophet, and his name had been on the revised version of the booklists and Hogwarts letters, but this was the first that anyone had actually seen him since that night. Minerva quickly took her own seat at the Deputy Headmistress's place, next to—next to where Albus should have been. Bitter anger roiled in her stomach.
Severus—no, Snape—stopped behind the ornate golden chair that was now his and gripped the back with both hands. Ignoring the teachers, he looked out at the four House tables. "We welcome all of you to Hogwarts." The murmuring stopped at once. "You are here because you deserve to be here, and we trust that all of you will strive to uphold the honour and traditions of this fine school."
Minerva felt her gorge rise. There were other students who deserved to be here, too, and she wasn't even sure if all of them were alive. She forced herself to swallow and took slow, deep breaths.
"The illustrious Sorting Hat has just sung the praises of each House in turn, I am sure," Snape continued silkily. "But this year, you would all do well to take a page from the Slytherins' book." He scanned the sea of upturned faces, his gaze finally coming to rest, as Minerva's had, at the Gryffindor table. "Each of you should look out for yourself, first and foremost. Stay out of trouble. Don't become entangled in any reckless schemes. Respect your teachers, and study hard." His hands seemed to clench on the back of his chair. "Behave as you should, and no one will come to any harm."
Snape paused a moment, letting the echoes of his words fade into the silence that had thickened with tension. The students stared, shocked by the scarcely veiled threat.
"And now," he continued, with a small sly smile, "let the feast begin."
Heaping platters of food appeared on all the tables. The students turned away and began to help themselves, finally chattering at a level that felt almost normal, if slightly frenzied. But Snape remained standing. He almost seemed to be frozen in place, staring down at the Headmaster's chair, gripping the back of it so tightly that his knuckles shone white in the candlelight.
"Go on then, Headmaster," Alecto Carrow called out. "Sit down, so we can start!"
Something akin to a bitter sneer twisted Snape's face. Minerva heard the scrape of his chair on the floor, and then he dropped into his seat.
It was all she could do not to shrink away. Spy. Traitor. Cold-blooded murderer.
And then, the moment she'd been dreading more than anything finally came. "Minerva," said the low, dangerous voice.
Her stomach turned to ice. She needed to be here at Hogwarts; she had to carry on. After all, she'd promised Albus that, no matter what happened, she would look after the children. But—she didn't think there was any way she could look Snape in the eye. She simply couldn't face him, not after the depth of his betrayal. How could she possibly spend every day in the same castle with this traitor that she'd known—or thought she'd known—since he was a boy?
In her desperation, her gaze found the Gryffindor table again. With a jolt of surprise, she realized that Longbottom was watching her. He slowly raised his chin. And then—quicker than a Kneazle chasing a mouse—he winked.
With great difficulty, Minerva kept her eyes from widening and her jaw from dropping. But a quiet warmth spread from her heart down to the tips of her fingers and her toes. If Neville Longbottom was willing to stand up to the new regime, surely she could find a way to do the same.
Drawing a very deep breath, Minerva turned to Snape and met his glittering black stare full on. For an instant, she almost thought she saw—regret? But she must have been mistaken, just as she was when she thought she saw remorse sixteen years ago, or a glimmer of friendship from time to time since then.
She set her jaw. "I'm warning you, Severus, that I will do everything in my power to see that no students are harmed at school this year."
He looked at her for a long moment, his face expressionless now, his dark eyes unreadable.
"Indeed, Minerva," he said at last. "I would expect nothing less."
"Under the Long Shadow" series index
.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 09:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-30 04:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 10:56 am (UTC)I particularly liked the way everything that Snape says and does can be taken two ways - I love the ambiguity in his character and you develop that beautifully. I also love the sheer awesomeness of Neville. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-11-30 04:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 12:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-30 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 03:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-30 04:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 05:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-30 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 09:42 pm (UTC)What a great line! Gave me shivers...
no subject
Date: 2007-11-30 04:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-01 01:52 am (UTC)The world doesn't have enough good MacGonagall fics; cheers for this one
no subject
Date: 2007-12-01 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-31 10:43 pm (UTC)Your McGonagall is great, here. Snape's personality seems right-on-the-money as well. It's nice to see you branching out of your R/T fic-verse a little bit.
So glad I got a chance to read this. Thanks and I'm looking forward to more R/T later! =)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-31 11:32 pm (UTC)As frustrating as it was to have almost no information about Hogwarts during DH year, it does give us all something to write fanfic about...
Thanks again for reading. :)