Lily Evans and the Lefay Torc

Lily Evans and the Lefay Torc
by ErtheChilde

"There are very few people who could claim ownership over this particular item. I am sure once you have a moment to examine it, you will realize why you are one of them and why it is of the utmost importance that you accept that."

AN: I make use of some passages from Deathly Hallows in this chapter. They belong to J.K. Rowling and not to me, although I've tried to paraphrase them properly. I use them only to make the chapter more authentic and canon. Please don't sue me, I'm a poor student with no money to give you.

- CHAPTER SEVEN - Slytherin's Say

The large man knocked on the door, shaking it to its very wrought iron hinges, and then there was silence as everyone waited with baited breath.

Lily's blood was still humming through her veins, charged, and she was hyperaware of the sounds from the forest far in the distance. She could practically feel the rustle of every leaf, the tread of animals across the paths, and a haunting call that beckoned to her with whimsical sadness.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked her suddenly, and she came back to herself with a jolt. She had turned away from the large door and was staring off in the direction of the forest she could not see, but could somehow feel. Several other first years were looking at her oddly, and Potter was sniggering at her. Feeling her cheeks warm up, she shook her head in answer to Severus' question and turned back to the large door, just in time to see it open with a loud creak.

An older woman swept out, her long, elegant maroon robes swirled around her. She had a stern face, but there was an odd quirk to her mouth that suggested that while it was rare that she smiled, it was not a gesture completely foreign to her features. Her hair was pulled into a severe bun and she looked down at the first years severely.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she addressed them archly. "Thank you, Hagrid - I will take them from here."

The wild-haired man bid a gruff adieu and sidled out off into the dark.

She made a beckoning gesture and the first years piled into the entrance hall, over the flagstone floor and through a hallway that was so large that it could have fit the entire Hogwarts Express inside it several times. The stone walls were lit with torches that cast sinister shadows across the marble staircase that led upwards to what Lily decided must be the beginning of many floors yet to come.

"I am Professor McGonagall," the woman introduced herself. "In a few moments I will lead you into the Great Hall for the start-of-term banquet, but before we all embark on yet another school year, you are to be Sorted."

The word itself wasn't threatening, but Lily shivered. Several other first years gulped audibly.

"The Sorting is the most important rite of passage of any student in this school, with the exception of academic achievement," Professor McGonagall explained. "At the Sorting you will be placed in one of the four Hogwarts Houses - Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, all of which have their own noble history and which have turned out thousands of fine witches and wizards since this school opened. Thus, you will become part of a legacy of centuries and embark on a journey that will deeply affect your future."

She studied the first years as though she was somewhat doubtful of what kind of future such a rag tag bunch could have.

"Given the nature of this school, your House will become your family for as long as you are deemed suitable to remain at Hogwarts," she continued. "Whatever house you are sorted into, I hope that you will take pride in it, your housemates and in all that you do. Triumphs here at Hogwarts will earn you House points, but if you break any rules -" Her eyes narrowed slightly at James Potter, who was chatting animatedly with his friend from the train. "- the professors as well as the prefects have the ability and the responsibility to deduct points from you. At the end of the year, the House that accumulates the greatest amount of points is accorded the honour of the House Cup."

Professor McGonagall led the first years through a corridor and then they entered a gigantic room, lit with floating candles. The ceiling looked as though there was none there at all, the clear skies of the exterior of the castle stretching over the packed Hall. Lily stared up in awe at the ceiling as she and the other first years walked through the hall. She didn't care how many times Severus had quoted Hogwarts: A History to her, she hadn't been completely prepared for the amazing sight. She almost didn't notice the whispers or the gazes of the older students as they passed the tables where they were all seated.

One table was elevated above the others on a dais, and placed perpendicular to the four tables which Lily supposed were for each house. There, the teachers had seated themselves to face the students, and in the middle, sitting on a more elaborate chair than the teachers, was the man that Lily could only surmise to be Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster.

She was immediately struck by how he seemed exactly how she would have pictured him and yet absolutely nothing like anyone she had ever seen. He certainly fit the stereotype of a wizard, with his dark blue robes that were speckled with shooting stars which actually whizzed around, his crooked nose and his long silver hair that reached almost to his knees. He could probably tuck it into his belt, she thought, and something about his twinkling blue eyes, visible even from where she stood, suggested that he did so on a regular basis just for the fun of it.

Beyond the amused smile she noticed a very slight tension set into his wrinkles, like an age-old sadness that had never really gone away. In that moment, she knew that when he had written to Petunia, it had been with a heartfelt, genuine regret that he couldn't help her.

And Lily immediately liked him all the more for it.

Professor McGonagall led them through the middle gap between the four long tables, and had them form a line facing the students and with their backs to the teachers, which caused Lily to notice for the first time just how many students were at Hogwarts. There seemed to be thousands of faces staring over at her and the others first years.

Her knees began to buckle as Professor McGonagall swept forward and placed a four-legged stool, which looked as though it had been chewed to pieces by termites in front of the first years, and then laid a worn out hat upon it. The hat was patched and frayed, looking very much like it had been dug out of one of the clothing bins her mother got together during church donations.

The older students' attention turned to the hat, and whatever whispers had been echoing through the Great Hall ceased abruptly.

Lily couldn't help following the collective gazes, and started in surprise as the hat began to twitch, and a clear, echoing voice suddenly emitted from a seam near the brim of the hat.

'Twas many, many years ago,
That four mages not of kin,
In times of darkness and of woe
Broke with Muggle chagrin.
They hatched a new and cunning plan,
One never concocted before,
To teach witches and wizards both,
That magic truly was much more.
Brave Godric Gryffindor chose first,
Seeking warriors brave and true,
Sly Salazar Slytherin's own thirst,
Sought students refined and few.
Fair Rowena, was wont to prefer
Only the wise in Ravenclaw,
While Helga Hufflepuff's chosen were
All and any that she saw.
Now these four could hardly fail to see,
That once Death took its toll,
Their successors might well disagree,
Into which houses students to enrol.
So off of Gryffindor's head came I
And filled with brains I was,
To Sort you youngsters with a cry,
And welcome you to our school's cause.

Lily clapped along with the rest of the students, and she glanced at Persephone who looked slightly sick. Although none too confident herself, Lily patted the other girl on the shoulder. Persephone gave no sign of having noticed her.

The hat bowed to the four tables in turn as applause shook the hall, and then became still once more as Professor McGonagall strode forward, pulling a scroll of parchment out of her robes.

"When I call your name, you will come up here and put on the Sorting Hat," she told them. "And yes, you will do so in front of the entire school. It's tradition." She cleared her throat. "Avery, Oberon."

The pale, skinny boy with blond hair from the train slouched forward out of the line and put on the hat, which had barely been righted on his head before it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

The table second to the right cheered and clapped as the boy strode forward and sat down, looking pleased with himself.

"Black, Sirius!"

The boy who had been in the compartment with James Potter grinned nervously at his new friend and trotted up to the hat, which he eyed warily before putting it on. The hat was silent for several seconds, before:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table to the far left of the hall cheered. For a moment, Sirius looked surprised as he got off of his chair, glancing over towards it almost askance. Then, he shrugged, a grin on his face once again and moved over to the table, striking up a conversation with two older redheaded boys, who could only be twins.

A square-jawed brunette by the name of Amelia Bones was sorted into Ravenclaw, and then Marine Blundell stalked forward and resolutely jammed the hat on her head. It was over a minute before the hat proclaimed her a Slytherin, and as she went to sit at that table, she looked as though she doubted that Hat's wisdom.

There were several other names called - Caradoc became the first Hufflepuff of the night to tumultuous cheers from the table on the right - and then Lily froze as Professor McGonagall called out, "Evans, Lily!"

She thought she would have a hard time getting her legs, which suddenly felt like lead, to move, but managed when Severus nudged her forward.

She staggered onward, her legs trembling more with each step, and lowered herself down onto the rickety stool. The last thing she saw as Professor McGonagall set it down over her eyes was Severus' face, full of hope and anxiousness. The next second she was looking at the unending darkness within the hat.

She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath somewhere beside her, and a voice murmured, "It's been centuries since I've had one of you."

There was a brief moment when Lily thought the hat was talking about Muggle-borns, but then the voice added, "This is not my decision to make, child, best leave it to the founders directly," and there was a sudden, shuddering pull, like the world being rolled over and over, upside out.

Lily cried out, and tried to pull off the hat, hoping that would make it stop the dizzying whirl of movement, but suddenly found that she was no longer beneath the hat, and that she was simply surrounded by darkness all over. The Great Hall was gone, and the people in it had vanished as well.

Lily felt a mounting terror as she looked down at herself, seeing that she was the only one there, wandering through the vast blackness in her Hogwarts robes.

"Hello?" she called fearfully, trying to keep herself calm. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer, although she heard an echoing whisper, like something coming from the bottom of a well, and she felt her knees began to tremble. She stepped forward, wondering if her movement might jar her back to reality, but nothing happened. Her footsteps resonated in the empty darkness.

"Well, this is lovely and all," she said loudly, "but I've got to get back. I'm being Sorted, you see, and it's rather important, so if someone could just...tell me how to get back...?"

"You will not be missed," a woman's cool voice told her, different from the enchanted voice of the Sorting Hat. "We are outside time and beyond space - this moment is eternal, but to you will be no more than the interval between heartbeats."

Lily looked around, trying to see who was talking to her. "Who's there?"

A snide voice. "Not exceptionally bright, is she?"

"Do not try to see with your eyes, child, you will only see the inside of a hat," a kind voice told her. "We are not grounded beyond our forms - you must provide the forum for us to interact."

Lily was confused, but a fourth voice said gruffly, "The first place that jumps to mind, lass, that is all we require."

Lily immediately thought of her home - her living room, with all of its comfortable, mismatched furniture and the smoky smell of her father's pipe, and the fireplace that had a roaring flame in it until the first dawnings of spring and which wasn't lit again until the first frost of the year.

Immediately, the darkness began to recede and Lily found herself standing in the middle of her living room, the familiar scents and sights warming her spirit. But there was something distinctly different about the people who surrounded her. It wasn't the faces of her family which peered at her from four different directions, but four strangers - and what strangers they were! Each of the magnificent four men and women stood in one corner of the room, looking utterly magical and completely out of place in the Muggle abode.

"Well met, Lily Evans," the first woman spoke, standing directly in front of her, still managing to look completely regal despite the ratty sofa-chair behind her. She was so tall and intimidating that Lily cowered slightly, barely noticing the unquestionable beauty of her porcelain skin and long lashes; inky black tresses shone almost blue in the light and her dark eyes were wells of what Lily could only imagine was endless intelligence. Unlike her companions, her robes were both rich in quality, but were plainer and more austere. Indeed, the only adornment she had on her was an object that looked as though it didn't belong, a tiara of some sort, jewelled in the middle and shaped like the spread wings of a bird.

Beside her, leaning casually by the television, was a burly man. He had wild tangles of red hair that surrounded his head and shoulder like a lion's mane, and coupled with the leonine length of his face, he bore a striking resemblance to the great predator. His eyes were the colour of an ancient forest, filled with the wisdom of age, but a spark of mischievousness. Given the colour of his hair and the richness of the embroidered burgundy robes, she would have expected him to be a ruddy-looking man, but his skin was pale as the moon beneath his beard. Clasped before him he held a huge silver sword, whose handles glittered with rubies the size of golf-balls. Below the hilt and down the length of the blade, the engraved name Godric Gryffindor gleamed at her.

Lily's mouth went dry as realization overcame her, and she studied the next stranger, the woman by the fireplace, more carefully. This one was shorter and plumper than the first, her hair a darker red than the man beside her, and her warm blue eyes glittered kindly. Lily found she was calmed just by looking into them. Her cheeks were red and dimpled, but there was firmness to her mouth that suggested she was not to be taken lightly despite her disarming looks. Like the others, she dressed in beautifully embroidered robes of a handsome yellow, and a long black cloak. She had a small golden cup clasped in her hands, looking remarkably like the Mill Town carollers who sang for charity donations at Christmastime.

The fourth was glaring at her openly and unabashedly, his thick grey eyebrow knotted together and his jaw trembling with so much rage that his white beard, which fell almost to the bottom of his sweeping robes, seemed to sway back and forth. Unlike the other three, he seemed ancient, his cheeks hallow and his eyes somewhat sunken, reminding her in a moment of inappropriate humour, of a picture of a spider monkey that she had seen once, albeit one with sallow skin. A heavy locket hung from around his neck, its glittering green stone inlay almost thick enough to blur the serpentine S that gleamed as the man quivered with his odd anger. He looked around her living room as though he was standing mired in the mess of a pig sty or some other filthy locale.

A faint purr caught her attention, and she looked down, utterly surprised to see a cat sliding around her feet. Its coat rippled with the movement, momentarily solid in orange, but the vibrations spoke for the creature's true form. The cat's presence comforted her, but at the same time, it nagged at her memory...

"What's going on?" Lily whispered, and then when she looked back at the four people standing in what looked like her living room, she laughed nervously, "So, this is how the Sorting Hat always gets it right, then? You're all here, in the Hat?"

"See what I mean?" the snide man said. "A complete lack of logic. I see no reason why any discussion concerning her future must be made."

Lily had no time to feel anger, as the kind woman interrupted, and when she spoke, her inflection was so similar to that of Lily's father that the girl felt a bubble of homesickness engulf her: "Now, now, Salazar, she is understandably confused. No one has explained anything to her yet."

"It is not our place to mettle or interpret the destinies of the living, Helga," the dark-haired woman with the heavy Scottish brogue told her companion. "We have been summoned to decide which of our noble houses will best aid her on her path - to ensure she stays upon that path which has been left to her. Let others see to her instruction."

"Hold on!" Lily cried. "What are you talking about?" She threw a cautious glance around her. "Why does this seem so familiar? And how are we in my living room...?"

"Allow me to make this easier," the embodiment of Salazar Slytherin jeered. "She will not be one of mine. No Muggle-born - whether she bears the Lefay Torc or not - will ever be claimed by me."

The name rang a bell, but Lily couldn't puzzle it out for the life of her. The cat winding around her legs hissed at the old man, who grimaced back at it.

"Come now, old friend, that's rather harsh," the other man objected archly in a thick, West Country accent. "We know that she embodies many of your own traits - even some of the less admirable ones. Clever, resourceful, determined, a born leader - and something tells me she has less regard for rules than she pretends."

"If you wish to consider her intelligence, then Rowena is the more likely candidate to claim her," Slytherin said dismissively. "And let us not completely ignore how much courage she must have to even come near to completing what has been ordained for her. That would make her one of your charges, Godric. Unless, of course, you would like to foist her off on Helga, where all the cast-offs end up anyhow?"

"Now, really." Hufflepuff's voice was laced with annoyance. "Every child with the gift of magic deserves to be taught, and I resent you implying any of my chosen are cast offs - oh, this is neither here nor there! We have had this argument before and it has no bearing on what we must decide now!"

"Excuse me..." Lily piped up, her head swivelling back and forth between the four.

"If you cannot be impartial, Salazar, the three of us will decide for you," Gryffindor boomed. "Or do you not recall how the majority ruled in ages past?"

The look Slytherin sent Gryffindor was murderous, but then he smoothed his features and said in an oily tone, "My disavowal of her as a Slytherin has no bearing on my belief in the importance of the task at hand. I have never forgiven that abomination for what he did to the last wizard who wore the Torc. Mind you, that one was a pureblood, and if he could not last long, I have very little hope for this one..."

"Hey!" Lily cried, both out of annoyance at the older man's continued insults directed at her and the founders pointed ignorance of her entreaties. Giving up on being polite, she waved her hands about, trying to catch the attention of the founders, or at least what appeared to be the founders. They ignored her. She frowned at the cat. "Can't you do something?"

The cat made a distinct shrugging motion, and began to clean its paw.

"If she had been but a half-blood, I might have briefly entertained the thought," Slytherin murmured quietly, almost defensively.

"It always comes back to blood with you," Ravenclaw sighed. "Stubbornness is not exactly your most endearing quality, you know."

"And ignoring what is fact in favour of possibility is not one of yours," came the snide retort. "Whatever your beliefs concerning blood status, you cannot argue that the last one was not infinitely better prepared than this one." The other three exchanged uncomfortable glance. "He knew what was expected and did whatever it took to carry it out - and then, of all the damnable luck, he married a Muggle or his child was a Squib, and the Torc has been passed on to Muggles all these years - I truly wonder how they could have kept it safe for so long."

"Well, it does amplify natural gifts," Ravenclaw interjected, "and contrary to your biases, Muggles have their own strengths -"

Lily couldn't take it any longer.

"WILL SOMEBODY LISTEN TO ME?" she shouted angrily, her voice echoing off the corners of the room in a way it never would have in real life.

The four were immediately silent, looking surprised, as though an inanimate object had suddenly given to speaking.

"I don't know if you lot have noticed, but I'm in the middle of my Sorting ceremony and might possibly be sitting in front of a thousand people with a dirty great hat on my head talking to myself and you're arguing over something that concerns me, but which none of you will explain! Now either tell me what's going on, or send me back so that I can gather up the shards of my dignity - seeing as how it looks like none of you want me - and go back home!" She breathed deeply. "And another thing..." Not knowing how much longer her courage would hold out, she rounded on Salazar Slytherin and fixed him with the most disdainful look she could muster. "You are a git."

There was a ringing silence.

And then Godric Gryffindor roared with laughter, Helga Hufflepuff tittered nervously and even Rowena Ravenclaw cracked a smile. Slytherin, for his part, was momentarily stunned, obviously having never been spoken to like that in his life by a child, before a dark look came into his eyes.

"If I had any magic left in me..." His sinister sneer trailed away into a low hiss, and Lily's eyes widened at what she heard.

"That's rude," she told him. "Whoever your mother was, I bet she's right ashamed of you."

Again Gryffindor laughed. "Well, if no one else wants her, I will take her - gods above, she has spunk. And even if she did not have all the right qualities for one of my own, the look on old Snaketongue there is priceless." He sobered up a little and then glanced Ravenclaw. "Unless you had your heart set on her?"

Ravenclaw pursed her lips.

"I would take her, except..." She paused and looked Lily over thoughtfully. "I sense that she is more oft ruled by her heart than her head. Were she a little less impulsive, I would claim her."

"You would be a welcome addition to Hufflepuff," the other woman said, still smiling kindly. "However, I do agree with Godric. I believe you are more suited to his brood than mine."

"Then it's settled!" Gryffindor clapped his hands together. "We should adjourn, and -"

"Now hang on a minute!" Lily interrupted. "No one's told me what this torc thing is? Why do I keep hearing about?" She racked her memory. "I know I've heard it before..."

The founders exchanged glances, as though unsure of what to say. The cat by her feet let out a warning growl.

"We do not know what it is," Ravenclaw told her mildly, eyes on the cat. "Only that it exists. The Torc was created after our time, and is thus beyond the ken of the consciousnesses of the founders which resides within this enchanted space." She smiled slightly at Lily's stunned look. "You thought you were truly speaking to the Hogwarts founders? Impossible - they are long dead. The dead can only be reached by crossing the Veil."

"We only know of the Torc because we remember every soul that has been Sorted," Hufflepuff explained. "Centuries ago, there were several generations of witches and wizards about whom we sensed the hand of fate."

"When fate speaks, even enchantments and magic listen," Gryffindor continued. "In the cases of these souls, the requirements the founders left with the Sorting Hat were no longer adequate. These souls - yourself included - required a more thorough decision. And your input."

"So this is all happening in my head," Lily said, miserable. "I really am sitting on a stool, talking to myself?"

"Evidently you were not listening before," Slytherin pronounced silkily. "The Hat has its own magic. Those who bear the Torc are not the only ones who sometimes need to be considered lengthily...they simply are the ones who do take the longest. There is a charm within this hat that slows time for the one who wears it."

"Regardless," Ravenclaw said dismissively. "The truth will be made known to you soon enough. Those who created the Torc enchanted it well to provide for its wearers."

Lily was quiet, digesting this, and the memory that kept nagging at her started to shake loose. The cat was looking at her again in its eerily human way. Memories of a terrible voice echoed from far away, causing the figures of the founders to look around in unease.

"Cat-Sidhe," Lily said suddenly, blinking at the cat in recognition. "I was dead...or dying, wasn't I? Something like this - it's happened before."

The cat meowed in answer, and Lily shivered.

She wanted to leave this place. The sooner, the better.

Slytherin was regarding her coolly, almost as though he could hear her thoughts.

Glancing at the other founders out of the corner of his eyes, he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. Immediately it seemed as though a faint buzzing was blocking the others, and he caught her eyes with his own ancient grey eyes.

"That pugilistic prat may have claimed you, but before you celebrate, I think you should know that the few Torc wearers in his House were the shortest-lived of any," he hissed maliciously. "Always rushing in to prove their courage and getting themselves killed for it. I may have no use for you, but the power in the relic you carry is something of great interest to me." His eyes were mere slits now. "Heed me, girl. If Anord comes for you, look to yourself. Save yourself."

He straightened up and Lily's hearing returned to normal as he drawled, "If you survive long enough, do marry a wizard." To the others he aimed a defiant, "At least that way the next one might be a mite prepared for the responsibility."

"Shall we send her back, then?" Hufflepuff suggested.

"In a moment," Ravenclaw said. "One last thing must be accomplished. Geasa."

"Geasa," repeated the others.

"Geasa," Slytherin said lazily, and Lily felt a slippery blankness form at the edge of her mind.

"What...?"

Slytherin leered at her. "That is so that you do not go shooting your mouth off about our little chat, girl. Torc or not, I do not trust you not to get yourself or others killed in this venture."

"I thought you had no magic," Lily demanded hotly.

"I do not," the man told her contemptuously. "But that she-demon you are so fond of does. She simply does not have a human mouth to speak from."

Cat-Sidhe snarled at him, and he shrugged.

Lily opened her mouth to say something incredibly rude herself, but the world had already darkened and sound rushed back to, going from so quiet she might have heard a pin drop, to the excited whispering that echoed from beyond what she could see within the hat.

"That's all squared away, then?" the small voice in her ear said. "Well, I must say, I had my doubts, but now I agree - you have a hard path ahead of you, one only the bravest can walk - and the bravest of all belong to GRYFFINDOR!"

Lily heard the hall tremble as the hat shouted the last word to the entire hall.

She stood mechanically, as the real world rushed back to her, and removed the hat from her head. She passed it to Professor McGonagall mechanically, and started toward the cheering Gryffindors. With each step, the memory of what had just happened to her began to blur, until she only had the vaguest recollection.

As she walked, she couldn't help seeing Severus' face fall, and she tried to send him an apologetic look, but knew that it was clouded by both confusion at what had just happened and the sadness that they wouldn't be in the same house. She wouldn't be able to tell him what had happened, she knew, but it might have been nice to have a familiar face to sit with to keep the uneasy thoughts from eating away at her.

Upon making it to the Gryffindor bench, someone moved aside to make room for her, and she sat down before she got a good look at him and recognized Sirius Black. Memory from beyond the Sorting came back to her, easier than the hat's memory, and she recalled how he had made fun of her and Severus on the train with James Potter. Folding her arms, she turned her back on him, deciding that she would move at the first opportunity.

"Bad cess to him," one of the redheaded twins next to Lily muttered after another first year named Goyle became a Slytherin.

"Why?" Lily asked vaguely as Delonney Hedgekirk was called.

"There's not a witch or wizard that went bad who wasn't in Slytherin," his twin said darkly.

"What do you mean by that?" Lily wanted to know, forcing herself to pay attention to the present as the details of her sojourn within the hat became near impossible to recall.

"You mean you don't know?" the first twin said, raising his eyebrows. Lily was vaguely aware of Delonney being Sorted into Ravenclaw in the background.

"Must be Muggle-born," said the other, but he didn't say it in an insulting way, more a realization.

"There's a wizard going about now targeting Muggles and Muggle-borns," was the explanation, and Lily remembered the turn the conversation on the Hogwarts Express had taken. "It's been going on for a few years now. According to our brother-in-law at the Ministry, most folks suspected of being Dark wizards - well, they were all in Slytherin."

Lily turned away, feeling numb.

So there was a lot more to this dislike of Muggle-borns than even Severus knew. Or had he known all along? She peeked back at the line of unsorted first years, and saw that he was watching her. She tried to respond to his nervous smile, but found that she couldn't. The knowledge of the very real danger, and the muddled warnings she recalled from the hat, just highlighted how much she didn't know about the wizarding world.

Up near the dais, Professor McGonagall called out, "Lupin, Remus", and the pale, tawny haired boy who had asked if she was alright that morning shuffled up to the hat, a look of pure terror on his face.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

With relief flooding over his face, he came over and sat between herself and Black.

She pasted a welcoming smile on her face to belie her deep thoughts. "Congratulations."

"Th-thanks," he said, shuddering slightly. "I thought it was going to tell me there'd been a mistake and I really wasn't good enough for Hogwarts."

"I heard the Sorting Hat's never wrong," she told him encouragingly.

"How come you talk to him, eh?" Black demanded, and Lily looked at him as though he was a particularly nasty insect.

"Because unlike you, he seems to have a shred of human decency."

"Tell off one slimy git and you're branded for life," Black sighed. "What is the world coming to?"

Lily was about retort, but Professor McGonagall had called out, "Malfoy, Persephone," and she promptly forgot all about Black and her own muddled thoughts.

Persephone appeared to have completely bypassed looking pale and right now appeared an alarming shade of green. She stumbled several times on her way to the stool, something which seemed completely incongruous with her naturally graceful gait, and she sat down quickly on the stool, allowing Professor McGonagall to place the hat on her.

For four and a half minutes, the hall was silent, watching the badly shaking shoulders of the girl. Whispers broke out, and Lily chanced a glance at the Slytherin table, where Persephone's brother was watching the affair hawkishly.

And then:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Shock rippled throughout the hall. While the Gryffindors cheered requisitely for the new addition, Lily noticed that over half of the Slytherin house was silent, their loudest reactions stunned whispers to their neighbours. Persephone herself hadn't moved from the chair, and it was only when Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from her head and gently motioned her toward the Gryffindor table, that she actually moved.

If possible, she looked ten times sicker by the time she sat down by Lily.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked her, torn between worry for the pale girl and happiness that she had at least one friend in her house.

"My father is going to be furious," she answered dully, but pure terror shone in her eyes. "I'll be d-disowned. There's never been a Gryffindor in the family..." She threw a petrified look at the Slytherin table, where her brother was eyeing her with a stony expression. "He's going to be a nightmare after this."

"Cheer up," Black broke in, "all of my family's been in Slytherin, but you don't see me trembling like a Shiverschlump. We can make a new group, you and me. The Black Sheep Club - or no, even better - the Slytherin Is For Twits group. And we can make badges, and charge admission, and -"

Lily cut him off with a dirty look and told Persephone, "He may be a nightmare, but at least you don't have to be around your brother more than during school hours. And even then, he's got his own classes; you'll probably never see him." She paused. "Would your parents really disown you for not getting into Slytherin?"

Persephone was quiet as 'Moore, Muireann' became a Hufflepuff, and then replied, "No, you're right. It would make them the topic of too much gossip if they disowned me." She caught Lily's gaze, and added quietly, so that only she could hear, "But they're still going to be livid."

"Let them - you don't have to see them until holidays, and by then you can think up something to say to them," Lily assured her friend.

Persephone nodded, not looking quite convinced.

Peter Pettigrew took even longer than Persephone to be Sorted, but also ended up in Gryffindor much to his surprise, and then it was James Potter's turn. Lily resolutely looked away as he swaggered up, and hoped against hope that he would end up in another house - only to have her hopes dashed as the word 'GRYFFINDOR' shook the Great Hall.

She pointedly ignored him as he came to sit across from Black and the two congratulated each other on their good fortune, her focus determinedly on the Sorting.

Severus was one of the last dozen students to be called, and the hat hesitated only a second before proclaiming him a Slytherin. He smirked smugly, and with a covert glance in her direction, he was off to the other side of the hall, choosing a seat facing her. She tried to send him an encouraging smile from across the room, to let him know that she was happy he had gotten into the house he wanted, but he wasn't looking at her. A group of Slytherins were cheering him, and Lily saw Lucius Malfoy pat Severus on the back as he sat down beside him, any trace of the distaste he had displayed in Flourish and Blotts gone for the moment.

The last student to be sorted was a black boy introduced as 'Zabini, Omar', and once he was safely seated at the Hufflepuff table, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and removed the chair and Sorting Hat from the hall.

There was a hush, and up at the table, Professor Dumbledore had stood up.

"Before we begin indulging in the wonderful feast that has been prepared," he began in a resonant voice, "I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual boring start-of-year notices and a few more serious sentiments which need to be addressed.

"My first announcement is that, regrettably, Professor Hubble's lumbago has caused him to give up his post as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," Dumbledore told them. "Hogwarts has been fortunate enough to find a replacement in the guise of Geraint Grigglesmere, a noted author on the subject, for the duration of this year."

There was applause as a tall, dark-haired young man sitting at the end of the teacher's table stood and bowed, before sitting again.

Dumbledore continued, "first years - and certain older students as well - must be aware that the Forbidden Forest remains off-limits to anyone, unless in the presence of a Hogwarts teacher. This is especially important this year, as there is a certain amount of unrest among the centaurs in the forest at the moment." He paused, letting this sink in, and then went on. "As always, I must impress upon you that magic in the corridors is strictly prohibited and that for your own protection, wandering around outside of your common rooms - or even outside of the castle - is expressly forbidden."

He appeared to glance at the Gryffindor table when he said this, and Lily heard the red-headed twins snort.

"As is custom, Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term for second year students and above - any first year who feels particularly against this rule can take it up with Madam Hooch - I am told that she has years of experience dissuading young people with a rather extensive collection of photographs of flying injuries.

"On a final rule-related note, I must tell you that Hogwarts has recently acquired a rather rare and valuable Whomping Willow from a generous donor, and that anyone who does not want to have their bones crushed or eyes gouged out should steer clear of it."

He looked around, ostensibly trying to meet the eye of every student in the hall.

"Now, to close this wearying speech of mine, I would like to address the phenomenon which is occurring outside of our school walls as we speak," he stated, his tone more serious than before. "As many of you know - and as many of you I'm sure have been finding out - there is a wizard who is currently amassing supporters in his misguided quest to promote so-called blood-purity." He paused, and Lily's eyes flickered to the Slytherin table, where most of them were looking smug and feigning disinterest. "Whatever your personal views on the matter, I ask that you respect one another regardless of lineage. And for anyone that feels persecuted despite my entreaties...we all know the dangers of the Dark Arts that are being practiced outside the bounds of Hogwarts. But more importantly, you must know that you will remain safe within these walls."

After several seconds of allowing his words to set in, his blue eyes twinkled.

"And now, on a lighter note - enjoy the feast!"

At his words, the dishes that decked the tables of the great hall filled themselves with food, bringing an amazing aroma to the huge candle-lit hall. Lily's mouth dropped as she saw that almost every single dish that she loved was in front of her, including cheesy leaks and Yorkshire pudding. If she hadn't been fiercely proud of her mother's abilities to cook, she would have said that it was the most amazing spread that she had ever seen in her life, even if there were some oddities.

"Wonder why they've got mint humbugs," Lily mused. "Hey, Persephone, have you ever tried one of these?"

Persephone didn't answer. She was staring silently at her empty plate, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that they were turning blue.

"Persephone?" Lily whispered, poking her in worry.

"Huh?" the silver haired girl asked, snapping out of her trance. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening..."

"I wanted to know if..."

"Lupin," Professor McGonagall appeared in front of them and was looking down in a hawk-like fashion at the tawny haired boy. "The Headmaster would like a word."

Remus Lupin nodded, suddenly extremely tense, stood and walked after the woman. She began to explain something to him in a low mumble and her voice trailed off as they got further away.

Potter and Black were laughing uproariously at something the twins were talking about, while Peter chuckled nervously along with them. Persephone had gone back to staring blankly in front of her, and all of a sudden, Lily felt truly alone for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts.

She cast an anxious glance back toward the Slytherin table, and saw both to her dismay and delight that Severus was in the middle of a group of at least a dozen Slytherin's of various ages, chatting animatedly. She had never seen him in such high spirits with anyone else, which cheered her up - she had worried he wouldn't be able to make any friends if they were in different houses. But at the same time, she wished he was sitting with her, and that they could be chatting as happily as the others at her table.

'I'll see him in classes tomorrow,' she said to herself. 'Everything will be even better tomorrow.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TBC

Thank you, Kim, for editing this for me.