The Portrait of Acceptance

The Portrait of Acceptance

Picture: A young boy, sitting by the fireside in his house. Alone. He balances a heavy book on his knees and squints at the fine print upon the page. He looks up for a moment, thinking he hears a sound, but there is no one there.

Picture: A mother weeping, sobbing into the night. A message has come from Hogwarts. Her daughter, her only daughter has been killed. She had wandered into the Forbidden Forest and now is gone. She walks into the twin's room and strokes their hair, feeling her heart ripped, ravaged by sorrow. Two of her other boys are at school, disbelieving, desolate as memories of her spin through their sleep-deprived minds. Or perhaps they do not yet know, and are partying in their Common Room, happy for one last night. She doesn't know.

The young boy is weeping too, slow tears trickling down his cheeks. He'd loved his sister- she'd been the only one who had understood. She'd been sorted into Slytherin, the only Weasley in centuries not to become a Gryffindor. He could talk to her, despite their disparity in age. She understood what it meant to be ambitious, to have vicious hopes and dreams. The only other who even vaguely understood him was his mother, but she merely wished him to do well, having a mother's wish for her progeny to succeed. Why did she have to die?

Picture: A year later. The young boy sits by the same fireside, but he no longer has tears running down his cheeks and is alive with joy. He is going to Hogwarts. He will finally be free of his family's cares and wishes. He can do what he wants, can succeed and make his mother proud. He clutches his brother's old wand in his small, delicate hand like the key that it is to a new existence. He feels its power rushing through him, and he is grateful. But suddenly the portrait changes. He hears his mother weeping, and is swept back to that day, almost a year ago when he lost his sister, his confidant.

"I'm afraid for him, Arthur. Who knows what they'll do to him in that house?'

"You don't know that he'll even be sorted there, dear. Aster was the exception."

"But he's so much like her. You know how much it took for her to become accepted."

"She was eventually. The Slytherins mourned her death more than anyone but us." A pause. "He'll be fine, Molly."

"I love him so. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to him."

The young boy turned away and snuck off to bed, his head hanging at the thought of what he must do.

Picture: An old woman, calling out the names of nameless first-years, the children they are welcoming to their hallowed school. She pauses briefly before calling one name, but her voice is steady as she says it.

"Weasley, Percy."

The young boy walks quietly and sits down upon the stool. The Hat looks inside his mind.

You've got a terrible thirst for power. You value it so much that I really don't think there's much question...

No, says Percy. I can't go there. My mother would...

Your mother is inconsequential at the moment.

Please don't put me there. Please. She will worry too much. I beg you, don't put me in Slytherin.

Why do you say this when you wish to go there so badly? The hat was taunting him, playing quite literally with his mind.

I know I do. My mother wouldn't be able to stand it.

Well then, where would she like you? The hat said sarcastically.

Gryffindor.

You're entirely unsuited for Gryffindor. If you insist, however...

Picture: Two happy boys welcoming their little brother to their table. Picture kind Gryffindors making way for the young boy.

Picture Percy Weasley with a smile on his face and desolation in his heart.

Picture: A young man sitting by a different fireside. It is his last year at Hogwarts, and he is grateful. He can now embark on his own life, his ambitious mind the key to his new existence. He is ready to begin upon the life that he loves, a life of power. He ignores the other Gryffindors within the room, thinking only of his shining future before him. He does not think of his family- they are a great cause of bitterness for him. They have set him back, caused him seven years of trauma and loneliness. He does think briefly of one though. She shared his long nose, blue eyes, red hair, and his bitter thirst for power. He longed once again to talk with his older sister, to confide in her and share his plans for success. He misses her greatly, but tries to think little of her, for it is time to leave. He strolls out the door of the common room and leaves the school for good, never to return as a student. His bright future and eventual happiness awaits him.

Picture: The same young man, sitting by a darkened fireside in a small ministry office. He holds a letter in his hand, a letter that confirms his promotion. It is slightly crumpled, and he is breathing heavily, almost as though he has had an altercation with someone. He sits up in disgust and lights a fire in the fireplace. He rereads the letter one last time, and makes to throw it into the fireplace, but he stops, and remembers another letter.

"I'm so happy that I was sorted into Slytherin, Percy. I was terrified for a moment there, but the hat said that there was no question. Oh, I'm so grateful. It'll be wonderful, don't you think? I'm sure I'll make lots of friends. I hope I do well in my classes, and I hope they are all excellent. I'm sure we'll have a wonderful time when you come. I tell you, it's wonderful to not have Bill and Charlie teasing you all the time.

Oh dear, it's getting rather late. I better send this now. Please tell mother that I'll write her tomorrow. I have a feeling that it will be interesting explaining the news. I'll see you at Christmas, and definitely owl you before then.

Your friend and sister,

Aster Weasley"

The man stalls his hand. He sighs, and puts the letter in his desk.

The fire blazes on.