Lucifer

Prologue

September, 1955

    The girl fretted her hands together as she stood there in the crowd of first-years. She was tall for her age, one of the taller children in the group, and so she could if she stood on her toes just see over the top of the other heads, up the length of the aisle, to where the stool and the Hat were, along with an elderly witch wearing bright green robes in a distinctly old-fashioned cut. Her stomach churned with nerves. She shifted, and a boy next to her whispered, "It'll be okay." He had red hair, and bright blue eyes, and he patted her shoulder reassuringly.

    "You're Sorted when you get there," her mother had said, as she had packed a very new and shiny trunk with equally new robes. "Be very careful. It matters so much which house you get in, who you know, who you like and don't like. Do your very best." But her mother had not said which House she should try for. There were four, but she knew little apart from that, which she had gleaned from conversation between her parents when they thought her asleep.

    As she shifted and pushed a dark strand of hair out of her face, a pair of pale grey eyes met hers. She smiled nervously at them, and after a moment, they crinkled in a cool smile. They belonged to a tall boy, so fair he shone almost white, who like her was peering up the aisle at the Sorting and varying it by the occasional whispered remark to a couple other boys near him. He didn't look concerned. Or not as concerned as she felt.

    They were working in her direction. "Johnson, Elsa!"

    Hufflepuff, and cheers and hugs as she sat down at the third table there.

    "Kendrick, Ava!"

    Gryffindor, and cheers from that table.

    "Malfoy, Lucius!" and the tall blond boy walked with an air of confidence up to the stool. He sat down, and the hat barely touched his head before it called, "Slytherin!"

    He was smiling as he walked to the far right-hand table.

    Ooh, thought Evadne. No wonder he looks like he owns the world. The Malfoy name was on the front page of the Daily Prophet a lot. Old, old blood, and very rich. She realized that was why some names had sounded familiar. Everyone's kids go here. Wow.

    It was getting closer.

    "Merritt, Giles!" A Ravenclaw.

    Morgan, Frances!" A Gryffindor.

    It all depends on this. All of it.It all depends on this....

    "Mulciber, Adrian!" A dark wiry boy, who is greeted with a clap on the back by Malfoy at the Slytherin table. They clearly knew each other before today.

    "Norton, Evadne!"

It seemed a long, long walk up the aisle. The hat was big for her, shading her eyes, and she heard an old man with amusement in his voice.

    Well, well, what have we here! Lots of loyalty, and courage too, and smart...what do you want?

    I want... She couldn't articulate it, but she knew it. Something to do with being a real witch, something deep that she'd learned from overheard conversations and halfspoken sentences, something that rested on her shoulders, the only child. I'll do anything for it....

    Anything?

    Anything.

    Then I think you belong in.... SLYTHERIN! the Hat bellowed, and she found herself walking over to the table. She sat down near Malfoy and Mulciber, and their smiles of welcome were drowned in the sound of soft polite murmurs from her new housemates.

    "Hello, Evadne, Welcome to Slytherin."

    "Welcome."

    It was much more her style than the great hugs and whoops of joy that the others were getting in other houses. She was shy and reserved by nature.

    Her end of the table was filling up. Two more boys, Terence Nott, Gilbert Parkinson. Another greeted with backslapping and grins, Augustus Rookwood.

    "Weasley, Arthur!" That was the redhead who had patted her shoulder while they waited. He was a Gryffindor and was welcomed by an exuberant hug from a redheaded girl, probably a sister.

    And at last, "Zabini, Antonio" was sorted into Ravenclaw, and the Headmaster stood up.

    "I welcome all of you to your Houses, and to Hogwarts. For many years we have strived to train our young wizards and witches to take their place in the larger wizarding world. Each element of your education will develop your young powers in...."

    Evadne shifted in her seat, trying to listen to the Headmaster but distracted by a growling stomach and nearby conversations.

    "God, but he does blather on," Malfoy murmured to Rookwood, "and I'm positively ravenous."

    "Too right," Rookwood returned. "Were you worried?

    "Not at all. We've always been in Slytherin. A little worried about Adrian, but he managed to escape Ravenclaw."

    "Well, we're all back together," returned Rookwood. "That old duffer could shut up any time now."

    "Likes the sound of his own voice," said an older boy, leaning down toward them. "I say, Gil, you looked positively green up there. Worried about where you were going?"

    "Oh, shut it, Alan!" Gil rejoined with some heat. Evadne could see the family resemblance, and smiled. She didn't have any brothers or sisters, and looked forward to the cameraderie of the House.

    "I say, look," said Terence Nott. "Keriell's hissing at him. He'll shut up soon."

    "And in conclusion, I wish you to enjoy the feast, and your new friends." The Headmaster sat down rather abruptly, and directed an unfocused beam on the audience. He was being ignored, though, in favor of the food, even by the teachers.

* * *

    "Worried, Lucius?" whispered Adrian.

    He shook his head with a faint grin as he walked down between the two center tables, down the center aisle to the Sorting Hat. It was overlarge for him, but that didn't bother him.

    Aaaah...another Malfoy, said the hat. And in the name it managed to put ten centuries of privilege and power and control. You belong in.... SLYTHERIN!

    He stood up with a smile of certainty and walked over to his table, smiling to the others gathered there. He knew a few, of course, older brothers and sisters of his friends. But his name gave him a cachet, and they all smiled in welcome, polite murmurs passing up and down the table as they turned to see who else would be sorted in.

    Adrian Mulciber was the next one, and Lucius felt a swoop of relief in his heart. Adrian was a bookworm, always finding out little useful nuggets of information, and there's been some worry among them that perhaps he might wind up in Ravenclaw instead.

    "The Hat said I was too practical," Adrian said in an undertone. "I say, what's a good theory without application?

    They sat down, and Lucius said, "Well, now we just have to wait. No way Rookwood won't wind up here. Oh, we've got a girl." They watched as Evadne Norton made her way over to the other side of the table. She was the tall one that had met his eyes when they were waiting, Lucius remembered. Dark hair, dark eyes, rather sallow skin. Looks sort of Spanish or something. He tried to remember who the Nortons were, but got distracted when Terry Nott sat down on his other side with a brilliant grin of accomplishment.

    "Only two more of us to go," he said. "Thank God we're past halfway, since I'm absolutely ravenous."

    Lucius realized he was too. "Yeah, they don't much feed you on the train."

    "Why the hell'd you ride the train, Lucius? Your dad's got a carriage."

    "He said something about the traditional experience," and Lucius's refined features exhibited disgust. "I'll say it's an experience. Never eaten a chocolate frog all over coal smut before. I need a bath."

    "You're such a ponce, Lucius," laughed Adrian. "Oooh, I think I see a wee bit of coal dust in that pretty white hair." He affected picking particles from Lucius's shoulder-length blond mane.

    "Ah, go wank a sheep, Adrian," laughed Lucius, and punched him lightly in the arm. "You've got a line of soot right down your cheek yourself. Here's Gil now."

    "Hey, there!" said Gilbert Parkinson, whose light brown hair was cut short in an effort to contain it. "Gang's all here, it looks like."

    "All except Rookwood."

    "He's up in a few. Haven't seen you lot for a while."

    "Last time was when Lucius's sister got married, " said Adrian, thinking.

    "Chryseis's wedding, yes, couple months back, " said Lucius. "Oh, Ralston's wound up in Hufflepuff. I knew he was a duffer, but damn!"

    There was much quiet laughter, and then Augustus Rookwood came over to join them. He said, "Shove over, Terry," and sat down next to him, darting a glance at the dark girl down the table. "One girl, anyway. It was looking like our year's all boys."

    "There's another down there...Carlisle, I think. Blond girl, but not as fair as Lucifer here," said Adrian. "No problems, Gus?"

    "Not at all," said Rookwood, looking down the table. "Yeah, Evan Carlisle's little sis. I forgot she was our age."

    "So, Lucius, heard anything about the profs we haven't?" asked Gil Parkinson.

    "Not really. My mother knows Keriell, but that's a given. I think they've collaborated on a couple papers. I'm just hoping I inherited her skill, cause otherwise I'm going to really have a hard time."

    "Hey, we bagged another bird," said Terry Nott. He'd actually been watching the Sorting. "Marguerite Skeeter."

They all looked up at the girl with mousy brown hair as she passed, then returned to the conversation.

    "I hear old Shackleford retired."

    "Yeah, my sister said there's a new one. Flitwick, that tiny one up there."

    "Small as he is, he must be dangerous," commented Lucius. They laughed, and Gus said, "Won't be an issue for YOU, Lucius. Me, though, Charms haven't been my thing at all."

    "You'll manage, Gus," said Adrian. "We've got a reputation to protect, you know."

    "That we do," said Terry. "Can't have the mudbloods showing us up."

    "Indeed," said Lucius. He looked down the table, and felt a surge of pride in his blood. All old families here, all the people who were his people. His family, in a larger sense. He was looking forward to showing that the old blood was still strong.

    After the Feast, they went back to their dorms to get settled in. Lucius dashed for the bath, and returned looking much less grey around the edges. He used a drying charm on his hair, and, clad in new robes, strolled out to the common room. The room was quiet, with the focused attention of cats who just saw a rustle of movement in the grass. And all attention was centered on the dark girl, Norton. She looked around in bewilderment, and Lucius felt a distant pity for her. She had no idea what she'd got into. This would be amusing.

    Evadne liked Slytherin so far. They weren't as wild and raucous as Gryffindor, and the fact that there were no great swooping hugs of welcome made Evadne feel more comfortable. Conversation was quiet and polite, unlike the food fight that broke out in Gryffindor. But sidelong glances were darted her way through the meal, and once everyone was settled in the dorm, the glances were changed into a question.

    "Evadne...Norton, is it?"

    The question was asked in a drawling, cool voice, by a tall dark girl, a couple years older. Evadne realized she was at the center of a circle, and the expressions on their faces were less than kind. Her dinner sat heavy in her stomach, and she felt her shoulders tensing.

    "I don't think I've ever heard that name before. Geoffrey, do you know of any Nortons?" she enquired of a tall boy who was lounging against the wall.

    "No..." he said, thoughtfully. "Who are your parents, Evadne, dear?"

    "William Norton and Dolores Johnson," she said. "Why?"

    "And who are their parents?"

    "Why does it matter? My grandparents aren't wizards, but..."

    She stopped speaking, because the atmosphere in the room had gotten colder. There was a long pause, and then the tall boy leaning against the mantel said, "Well, well, well. The Hat has given Slytherin a mudblood. We must endeavour to make the best of it."

    "Best of it!" a girl said angrily.

    "Shut it, Lacerta," he said firmly. He fixed Evadne with a stern eye, and said, "Evadne, you have no idea of the honor done you. Live up to it, and don't embarass your house by pulling any stupid Mudblooded tricks."

Someone behind her said, "The Hat must be getting senile," and there was a snigger all around. And Evadne realized that her dream of a family wouldn't be found in Slytherin House.

She didn't cry until she was behind the green velvet curtains of her new bed, and no one could see or hear. And after a few weeks, she didn't cry at all. She was, after all, a pragmatist, and no one ever challenged the decisions of the Sorting Hat. Not even a mudblood in Slytherin.