The Sorting Hat Crusades

Harry Potter reminisced of a time he didn't know. He built worlds out of the pictures he'd seen and the time-worn memories of those who remember. With so much invested into the image he had of his parents, he would never even begin to fathom something less than perfect. He would never realize that snapshots capture only single moments in the thread of time, and that memories can easily be distorted to suite one's subconscious wishes.

Everything Harry knew was essentially fact. Lily Evans wedded James Potter, and Harry was born. The truth, however, lies in the omissions. Their friends would live on, staying completely oblivious to the secrets his parents took to their graves. In the magic realm, however, nothing can be eradicated from the memory of the eras.

The charms cast centuries ago, by wizards long gone, still live on a plane inaccessible as of yet. Everything done and said, even thought, is imprinted on another dimension in the air. It thrives and maneuvers around everyone, daring to be caught and removed of its veils for all to see.

There are no spells to reveal this. There is only the invisible expanse of time, which is yet to be mastered by any man, muggle or wizard. Remnants are scarce, but only they can fill the history books. No one can remember what they never knew, so perhaps ignorance would always be best for Harry. At least when it came to business outside of the Voldermort saga, and all that was encompassed by it.

Harry would never really know, then, the definitive natures of his parents. He might know of his father's pride, his mother's compassion, their love, and the plight of the Marauders, but everything that surrounded this was cloudy and vague. He would never really know.

All the pretense of Lily's first year at Hogwarts had vanished into the workings of the new unspoken terms. The lines have been filled in for everyone, with lush colors and detail. She was the muggle-born wizard. She has also shown herself to be quite brilliant in the Hogwarts element, and this her backwards-thinking peers had long ago conceded to.

Despite the preliminary respect that fact had garnered, however, she was still a muggle-born. She was infamous despite her clean record, and special for it. This was accentuated with her outspoken personality and penchant for justice. She was an import of a certain humanity that Hogwarts had barely a glimpse of.

Then there was James and his gang of pranksters. They too were infamous, the highlights of their class, in the worst kind of way. Unlike those of the Slytherin sort, their madness had a light-hearted adolescent quality to it. There was an assumed understanding that their flamboyant personalities would translate into truly Gryffindorian assets, come adulthood.

The only other House that really had such exalted characters pronounced in the generation was Slytherin. It had genuinely spiteful leaders from snobby families, and arrogant slackers. There was one of whom that really stood out, though, in such a way that might be considered art.

She was low key, sarcastic, and a horrible student in spite of the brains she possessed. It was an almost refreshing contrast to her uptight male counterparts, and nearly saddening to know she would inevitably be held back by the strong tug of blood and heredity.

Narcissa Black secretly envied her cousin Sirius. She knew that if he was ever forced in any direction other than the one he wanted, he would rebel against it in an instant. He didn't understand the pressures she had to bear as a lady Black, nor the necessity of conformation when it came down to family.

So she rebelled as best she could in her own way. She was openly rude, almost unladylike, and careless of the institutions created by Hogwarts. The points system was to her like trading invisible worthless coins. The other Slytherins both hated her and admired her for this. In this small way, the dynamic between her and her house was paralleled by Lily and the Gryffindors.

Rivalry drenched every class the Slytherins and Gryffindors shared. Lily ignored the teases and wisecracks of James and Sirius, and the death glares and dirty tricks their Slytherin peers used in retaliation. She would jump in, however, whenever anything went too far. Lily despised the animosity everyone emitted toward each other, and tolerated it only to a point.

Narcissa would often roll her eyes at the lot of them, saving her witty comebacks for allies worthy. It didn't matter to her if the gits she shared a common room with got altogether buggered by those Gryffindors. She would even occasionally feel a bolt of pride whenever Sirius would do something particularly clever, though this she would never admit.

As such, the typical Potions class fell into a rhythm. James and Sirius would always go head to head with the Lestrange brothers. It was a battle of sharp words and pranks versus sneers and underhanded tricks. The rest of the class would be invested in these battles, while pretending to be enthralled by the Professor's lecture on puffapods. That is, except for Lily and Narcissa.

Theirs was a third tier to this rhythm. Lily couldn't help but to scowl when James picked on that poor boy Snape. Sometimes he would take it too far, and she just had to intervene. Narcissa slouched in the back most desk of the classroom, ignoring almost completely both lessons and bickering. It was a wonder how she managed to look so regal, as if on a higher plane than everyone else, and still be such an utter slacker.

Her mind would wander so much, it probably wasn't even in the right place to begin with. She'd mutter aloud random quips in her uniquely snobby way, and crack up anyone who bothered to hear them. Narcissa would never spare a smile for anyone, however. She was all smirk.

Lily acted like she never heard her, and would hold back her giggles as best she could. She diligently copied down notes from the lecture, raised her head whenever James went too far, and smiled slightly when Narcissa subtly dethroned them all. All the while, she kept looking forward, never looking back to James, Sirius, the Lestranges, or Narcissa.

At the ripe age of sixteen, in the beginning of their sixth years, the dynamic changed slightly. Everything was tainted with the onset of hormones, for better or worse. They all knew the year would be different somehow, in the pits of their bellies, but didn't really know what to expect. All they could do was ride the horseless carriages, no longer dazed and confused by the sheer overbearingness Hogwarts had, and wait for life to happen.

Narcissa loved to watch the first-years get sorted. She would scrutinize everyone and try to guess their personalities without even meeting them. It wasn't that she was very good at it, but the fun was in the revelations.

What seemed like an eternity ago, when she put on that very hat herself, it surprised her with it's whispers. "You ought to know, oddly enough, it's a bit of a trouble deciding whether you're a Slytherin or Gryffindor. Frankly, I could go either way." The sorting hat listened with care to her immediate thought after the statement, and it was one of panic. The hat then knew what was to be done, and shouted, "Slytherin!"

She drifted out of the memory and watched a small freckled boy grin and walk over to the Gryffindor table. He was welcomed by hearty slaps to the back, and welcoming cheers from the girls. Narcissa eventually settled her vision on Lily. She hadn't seen the muggle-born since last year, of course, and was inwardly glad to see the familiar face.

Lily had grown slightly, in height as well as other keen areas. The Potter boy openly stared at her from across the table. Narcissa vaguely remembered that he would constantly pester the girl, and that she ignored him with equal fervor. Now, she mused, Lily would be downright bombarded with attention from his hormones.

When Lily looked her way, Narcissa realized she was staring as much as Potter, and quickly returned her concentration to the sorting. She felt Lily's eyes still on her, however, and imagined the girl puzzled by the attention. No, she thought, more like frightened. What kind of intentions could she possibly have, watching a mudblood like that, if not malevolent? Narcissa watched as the sorting ended, and as they took the odd hat off the stool.

"Evans," called James, "Will you be needing an escort to the common room? The corridors can be terribly confusing this time of year." He smiled mischievously, garnering knowing chuckles from his mates.

"If that's the case, you're probably only asking to come along so you don't get lost yourself," answered Lily, who was more focused on eating her wonderful meal than dealing with more of James' sweet talk. She was far too used to it that it barely affected her anymore.

Sirius smiled, watching the two. "That was the seventeen-thousandth rejection you gave him, Lily. If you won't give him the time of day, maybe you're really just more interested in me?"

James frowned in pseudo hurt, punching Sirius in the shoulder. "Hey, I thought you were my mate! Shows how much I can trust you," he said. Lily smiled at this. While she didn't quite appreciate them as individuals, she had to admire such a cute friendship. She mentally noted how much they would hate it if she pointed that out, and filed it away for later.

"I think you got a smile out of her that time. Only took five years, you're well on your way!" said Sirius. Remus, looking dreary since arriving, grinned as he stared down at his food and poked at it. Sirius whispered in his ear, and then Remus reluctantly scarfed down a roll of bread. The lot of them really did have a unique relationship.

It has been five years, Lily thought. Despite the tinge of bullying disposition to their relationship, they had become friends somehow. There wouldn't be any harm, really, to walking with him in the corridors. "I suppose I ought to be chivalrous, though, if that's the case James," she said with resignation. James just smiled, then, the sort of smile a person has when they have no idea they look so happy.