Cross-Post: Haggled (main story brainstorm)

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original here. dated 2011-11-20.

~

Haggled has all the hallmarks of a traditional fairytale, but I’m fairly sure it doesn’t actually exist and it will be told in a grittier, factual way. It starts, much like other fairytales, with the royal couple having difficulties producing an heir; this, unlike other fairytales however, results in marriage and more importantly political troubles and the situation becomes dire. It’s implied that the king had successfully impregnated a servant girl, which proved that the issue was not with the king (figures), which puts further pressure on the queen. Furthermore, her brother, the prince of the neighboring kingdom of which her marriage sealed the alliance, tells her that there are signs of war and that their home kingdom will need time to prepare and to accept him as acting king (since their father has not yet died but is sickly and old). In order to save her marriage and most importantly her kingdom(s), she goes to the mysterious witch and makes a deal.

The witch will agree to give the queen a child, if the queen agrees to concede her control of the throne to the witch. She asks for time to decide and intelligently weighs the pros and cons while consulting with her brother: she takes the deal because ten months will be sufficient enough time to prepare her native kingdom, her brother has promised to accept her and her child back into the fold, she figures she doesn’t actually have any significant control over the throne, the royal magician (though unable to help her conceive) is a powerful battle magician etc. etc. So the queen becomes pregnant, war is averted, and all is well for a while.

The queen gives birth to a son and everything is amazing because now they have a male heir and won’t have to go through the madness of infertility again. The witch sends reminders of their deal or requests a meeting with the queen or whatever, which goes unanswered, though the queen tells the royal magician to be on guard and etc. The day of the prince’s official ceremonial debut-thing with all the neighboring dignitaries and important people the witch crashes the party, because defenses are lowered and stuff, to disclose the secret of the deal and to vow the fulfillment of it. Defenses are raised, everyone’s on guard, etc.

Everyone is expecting this huge theatrical attack or widespread curse, but the night passes and it seems like nothing happens. In the morning, however, it is discovered that in the prince’s crib is another identical child, with a note from the witch to take care of the children she gave them. Basically, one of them is the real prince, the other is a golem or something but it is impossible to tell them apart. There isn’t really anything to do but to raise both of them and hope with time they can tell the difference.

Time passes, the twins grow up, and it’s noticeable that one is the… better twin… but there’s still no way to tell which one would be under the witch’s control. The not-as-competenet twin turns out to have magic, which he keeps a secret since a) that might imply he is the golem, b) magicians have been mistrusted/discriminated against since the debut, c) he’s never had anything for himself, etc. etc. But soon he’s not able to hide his magic, though luckily he only reveals it to his only close, loyal friend. They come up with the idea to travel to the old court magician in order to learn how to control his magic. The journey makes him more independent and stronger, they meet new people along the way, and it turns out that by traveling, the prince is actually learning how to control his magic on his own.

Meanwhile back at the castle, the royal family assume that the missing son was kidnapped by the witch and in which case it is also assumed that the competent twin is the golem. I’m not too sure if the queen wants to keep that idea to herself to protect the kingdom and her not-son, and etc. or if they just straight up imprison him? But anyway, they send out search parties to find their other son, which the traveling party misinterprets as hunting the incompetent twin because they think he’s the golem. The competent twin is plagued by visits and visions of the witch who is trying to exert her influence on him because the other twin is protected by his own magic. The magic twin doesn’t fully experience her oppressive visits, he is able to see what his brother is being put through, because even if they are different they are twins and brothers and friends! We still have no idea which is the golem, and I think I’d like to keep that a mystery.

At some point, the magic twin meets the old court magician who at first refuses to teach him. Soon after, it is the twin left behind is sentenced to death because the idea that he is the golem has spread and people want action done. The magic twin decides to go back to save his brother, which… I’m not sure how that’ll work out? I guess his plan is to show up and wing it… His party follows because they are loyal and etc. The old magician doesn’t, but he does tell the magic twin that as the golem’s power source, killing the witch will also kill the golem.

The magic twin goes to save his brother, the witch appears because it’s the climax and there’s a magic battle… I don’t know how this ends to be honest. I guess the happiest ending would be that the protagonists are able to kill the witch but the golem, the competent twin in this case, gets his power from the magic twin so no one has to die since the threat is gone. There’s the option where the competent twin sacrifices himself (or goes crazy and commits murder suicide) to help his brother defeat the witch, where the competent twin is the golem but is able to overcome the witch’s influence to do the right thing. There’s also the possibility that neither of them are golems but that one or both the actual children of the witch. I mostly wanted the idea of an evil witch getting her revenge not by obvious killing attempts and curses but by causing suspicion and things to taint already strained relationships and politics.

Cross-Post: Triangles and Other Three Sided Things

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original here. dated 2011-11-04

~

They’re not really sure when it started. Well, no, that’s a lie. All of them are sure about when they think it started, but none of them agree:

Timmy says it was that Friday the 13th dance all those years ago; “we were dancing together—and Cindy even admits she went to the dance with both of us.”

“She went to the dance with both of us, yes, and she was both of our dates, but we didn’t go to the dance with each other.”

“Actually, Neutron, since we all arrived at the dance at the same time and from the same place together, we all three did, in fact, go to the dance with each other.”

“Haha! See, I am so right! Take that, boy genius!”

“Oh, Timmy, you really aren’t.”

Cindy thinks that that’s far too early—they were just kids, they didn’t really know anything back then, boy genius aside. “If it had any specific beginning,” she argues, “it was in high school.”

“What?”

“No, no, now you’re too early. You were my girlfriend in high school.”

“Only because Timmy was still living in his old dimension—”

“Then how would it have started in high school?”

“Let me finish! Only because Timmy was still living in his old dimension and you know how high school is, peer pressure and all that. And plus, the two of you were still shy—it took you forever to kiss.”

“Well, that just proves my point then, Vortex.”

Jimmy knows it didn’t really start until even further after that, it was definitely in college.

“Look, the facts don’t lie, it can’t have started before Timmy came to live in this dimension. And like you said, high school wasn’t really the best place to foster any kind of relationship that didn’t match the accepted social norms. We couldn’t really accept ourselves a-as a… as a…”

“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ménage à trois, Neutron.”

“I can’t believe he still stutters at that. Just call it a threesome, no need for fancy words. But it’s okay, I love both of you for your bodies, not your minds… nerdy babes, the things I put up with.”

At this point in the disagreement, they lose their train of thought or get distracted by other topics or end up in a bit of roughhousing that turns a lot friendlier. It’s a conversation they’ve had before, rehashing the same things over and over, so it’s easy to drop it. Because what really matters isn’t when it started, this relationship of theirs, only that it exists.

~

College was fraught with a lot of surprises. Mostly the fact that he even went to college. Timmy that is. To be honest, with all of the poor schooling and sadistic teachers and limited attention span, he’s still kind of surprised to have even graduated from elementary school let alone high school. And no one really expected him to continue on to higher education. Least of all himself.

Actually… no one really expected him to do anything with his life. (Why does that seem wrong to him, somehow? He feels like there was someone, maybe two someones, who cared about him. But why wouldn’t he be able to remember them then?)

… Well, no one in his old dimension anyway.

What are you going to do now? Will you be going to college? Why don’t you live in this dimension? Wouldn’t you like to come with us? What are you going to do now?

They had asked. And he had answered. Through the inter-dimensional portal he went. (None of them can remember what inspired Jimmy to invent the inter-dimensional portal, they’re pretty sure that Timmy came through first but they’re not too sure how that would have happened.)

He had only two sets of clothes and his favorite comic books in his backpack, money not working across different dimensions and not really having much else of value. (He had considered bringing his goldfish bowl, even if there were no more goldfish in it and he wasn’t sure why. He had gone back to get it when the three of them finally got a place of their own. Cindy always asks why they don’t get some fish for it, but he feels like it just wouldn’t be the same.) And he had gotten used to living without much stuff, his parents constantly forgetting his existence and Vicky destroying most of what he did have.

He wouldn’t really have been prepared for college even with more stuff. He’s still not actually sure how he got accepted, though it he thinks it might have to do with Jimmy giving him credit on some inventions—he hadn’t actually done any of the science-y stuff, but he had come up with the ideas, and no college is going to say no James Isaac Neutron—and maybe with Cindy’s family’s connections—and practically nothing on Earth is going to say no to Cynthia Aurora Vortex. [It’s actually neither, the school wanted the honor of having the first inter-dimensional student, regardless of how mediocre his application was.]

But he did get accepted into college. Even if he did struggle in introductory general education classes and hop from major to major with no clear idea of what he wanted to do. Even as his friends blazed ahead: Cindy getting a heady combination of degrees in business, political science, and biochemistry and Jimmy dominating all levels of the engineering department like he had been born to do so.

And at some point, Timmy, being one of the few people not driven off by the constant inventing and in desperate need of a place to stay [though that’s not at all why Jimmy chose to do all of his noisy tinkering in the middle night while his previous roommates were trying to sleep. Not. At. All.] moved into Jimmy’s apartment. And at some point after that, Cindy, already practically living with them—eating, studying, sleeping, even bathing there—officially moved in, bringing whatever hadn’t already migrated it’s way there.

It confused the hell out of their peers and professors. But that didn’t matter at all.

~

Money is… kind of not an issue for them. Definitely not for her, and surprisingly not for him either. Jimmy that is. Sure, his brain’s wired almost exclusively for science, but he’s not a total idiot when it comes to finances. It’s just simple arithmetic. But anyway, the point is that he knows how to handle money—the resources for his inventions don’t just pop out of thin air and there’s more to engineering than just making things. He had to get his inventions out in the market somehow, and it’s not like he’s going to let Cindy handle all of their business and financial needs [Jimmy has to at least pretend like he’s still got some pride, even though Cindy and Timmy know the truth.]

But money is not an issue for them. They work because they want to and because, honestly, they’d be horrifically bored otherwise. They do still have the tendency to go on crazy adventures, or maybe stop the occasional menace, but it’s not like they’re superheroes or anything [though there was that one Halloween…]

Cindy alternates her time between her family’s company [Vortex Incorporated has a hand in almost everything from televisions to sports equipment to pharmaceuticals to you name it] and being an associate of the law firm Manson Pataki & Sanchez [the three managing partners are very impressive and inspirational ladies, and are noticing her work ethic]. Her boys aren’t all that sure how she does it, but they do make sure she gets enough rest and relaxation.

Timmy is an elementary school teacher and counselor. He’s very good at his job. His students love him and it’s educational and fun in a way school never was for him. He gets to be a child again, and he missed that (he really does and it seems like more than just nostalgia). He also writes children’s books about magic, to his scientifically-inclined lovers’ despair, about kids with fairy godparents. (He knows that it’s all his imagination, but it doesn’t always feel that way).

Jimmy comes up with some new invention every once in a while and passes it off to the R&D department of whichever company he’s showing off to [usually a certain Vortex Inc, because it’s more fun that way]. If they can reverse engineer it he lets them mass produce it as long as he gets a percentage of the profits; if they can’t he gets to play around with whatever they have in their labs [because not even he can think of everything, but either way it is a win-win situation].

So, yeah. Money isn’t a problem. They can afford the occasional sick-leave-that-really-isn’t and they use that time to maintain what really matters, even if it’s just the three of them all being at home at the same time or even some distant locales like desert islands or outer space. It works.

Cross-Post: Untitled (Thurs Oct 27)

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original here. dated 2011-10-27

[A/N: First cross-post so you know what to expect in the upcoming week(s). Anything after the tilde is pretty much lifted straight off my livejournal so… be kind?]

~

My first sip of alcohol was champagne. My father had some kind of celebratory social event–he wasn’t the one being celebrated, but he, and thus I, was invited. The sun was bright and our clothing pretty but impractical–I was uncomfortably warm.

A toast! To the initiates or cadets or graduates, I don’t remember. I remember the amusing artwork on a neighboring building–stick people trying to climb into windows. I remember the white plastic fold out chairs with blue balloons tied at the end of each row.

The champagne was served in those cheap, wannabe glasses that aren’t made out of glass at all. I took a sip and immediately regretted it. The alcohol seared my young tongue and the carbonation fizzed unpleasantly in my nose. I gave my not-glass glass to my father. He had already finished his.

My second taste of alcohol was, in contrast, at night. My older sister, of a legal age to drink, had begun an exploratory campaign to find what she liked. Multiple tiny colored bottles appeared in the refrigerator. They disappeared soon enough.

One night, almost alone in the apartment, I had been preparing to sleep. My younger sister entered our dark shared room, her silhouette revealing little else but her height which I envied. Try this, you’ll probably like it, she said. In her hands was a tiny porcelain mug, the kind for children with cartoon characters painted on it.

How do you know that? I asked. It was hard lemonade–I do have a soft spot for lemonade. Okay, I said, only a little. She transferred that cool tiny mug into my own hands, and I took a sip. I know what real lemonade should taste like and that just accentuated the alcohol. She may have finished the mug or poured it down the drain, but not long after she returned and we said good night.

My third experience of alcohol was not actually as a drink. At a family reunion–the large kind where you don’t really know that many people and it take a while to figure out how exactly people are related–my sisters and closer cousins sat in the shade of a short tree. Too numerous to fit around our allocated table, some of us sat on the grass or along a brick ledge.

My older cousin, who I would say to almost be a brother to me if I had any experience with male siblings, or perhaps my first crush if you believe in Freud’s Oedipal complex, sat beside me. A few inches apart, close enough for familiarity and far enough not to add to the summer heat or jostle our elbows. I looked over at his white disposable cup, curiously, for his movements were not as smooth as usual.

A mischievous and secretive grin, he tilted the cup in my direction. Dark red wine and floating pink blocks of watermelon. He held it out to me and I took the smallest cube, cool in my mouth. That alone was worth a smile. I placed it under my tongue, away from my taste buds, and couldn’t tell him that I didn’t really like it.

Cross-Posting Announcement

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IRL stuff is going to be interfering with my ability to use a computer, so instead of have missed posts for a week I’m going to set up a queue of some of my favorite / semi-relevant (in that I’ve already done some drabbles here in the same series/universe) entries from my livejournal. I’ll do oldest to most recent, so the posts I’ve queued so far are from 2011-2012, please be kind. 😛

Hopefully I will be back after a week to do new things (I’m especially bummed that it’s cutting into my Running Backwards groove) but if not I should have enough queued up to last me until I do get back.

Goodbye for now!

Running Backwards Chapter Six (2015-04-06)

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The Hufflepuff dorms are the only ones that have an active defense. Slytherins prefer absolute stealth–their entrance is a blank stone wall indistinguishable from the rest of the castle–and the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw dorms have semi-sentient guardians in the form of a portrait and an enchanted door-knocker. But the Hufflepuff entrance? It will drench any would-be invaders with vinegar should they make any wrong move. One of the prefects, Danica Delano, cheerfully informs us that it used to be bubotuber pus up until 1837, when the Board of Governors had the Head of House change it to something less… drastic.

“That was the year when all the other Houses made it a challenge to get into our common room–the number of visits to the infirmary was ridiculous. Even to this day, only Hufflepuffs have ever been inside,” Danica continued, as she led the group to a room next to the kitchen stuffed full of barrels. The nine of us first years looked around in puzzlement but remained silent–Danica was an engaging speaker, and generous with her Hufflepuff knowledge, she’d tell us soon enough.

“Inside first, it’s more secure,” She whispered conspiratorially, knuckles rapping against one of the barrels until it revealed a tunnel. It was dimly lit, but not so dark that I couldn’t still spot the prefect’s magically colored purple hair.

The tunnel opened up into the common room and I could only describe it as, “It’s like a hobbit hole,” I read a lot, both in this life and my previous one, and certain books in both. The magical raised children that had heard me looked confused, but one of the other Hufflepuff girls, one I vaguely recognized from the Diagon Alley trip, grinned at me in agreement.

It really was like a hobbit hole–or at least what I imagined one looked like, and what images of the Lord of the Rings films I could fathom from the depths of my mind. The common room was all curved frames and comfortable fabrics and warm colors. The furniture was pressed along the walls leaving, the center of the room was raised slightly like a low stage, empty and available. It was open, but somehow cozy.

“All of what I told you outside is true, but it’s knowledge easily available in Hogwarts: A History. What is only known to Hufflepuffs–and can only be known to Hufflepuffs–is that we have another layer of defense. One little bit of history that people like to brush over is that our founder, Helga Hufflepuff, made Hogwarts available as a refuge for House Elves. Those who were abused could come and work here without fear of injury. Most of the House Elves work in the kitchens, though some of them do work in other parts of the castle. We passed the kitchen on our way here. Does anyone know where I’m leading with this?” Danica had a passion for history, at least history relating to Hufflepuff, and would undoubtedly be a better teacher than Binns.

“The House Elves protect the Hufflepuff dorms,” Farold concluded, rightly so as our prefect guide nodded.

“Yes, exactly! Those other barrels? Well, some of them do contain projectile vinegar, but others are actually where some of the House Elves sleep,”

“You make them sleep in barrels?” My fellow muggleborn interjected, brow furrowed in displeasure. I couldn’t say I didn’t feel the same.

“Ah, muggleborn. Tara Kahn, right?”

“Yes,” Tara bit out through grit teeth.

“My friend had a similar reaction. I’ll tell you what we were told by our prefect: House Elves are different from humans. Wizards and witches? Our magic is within us. But House Elves draw power from a building–a house, a castle–any structure whose foundation is magic. If anything, the Hogwarts elves are much stronger than any elves serving in some family’s ancient and noble manor…” The nine of us were riveted, even Tara who still had a frown on her face.

“… But it’s the serving part that gets to you, the sleeping in barrels. House Elves are more like poltergeists than you’d think–not physically–but while poltergeist magic manifests itself as mischief and mayhem, House Elf magic is for improving and preserving their House and its inhabitants. As for sleeping in barrels, well… technically House Elves don’t need to sleep. They can sustain themselves indefinitely on magic alone. Hogwarts elves have mandatory break times–because if Helga Hufflepuff hadn’t specified that, then they wouldn’t take any. As for the barrels? Well, they are fairly large and they’re cushioned inside. Considering most House Elves are at most three feet tall, it’s about as comfortable for them as your beds will be for you,” At the mention of beds, most of us remembered how weary we were; some even yawned.

“I still don’t like it,” Tara grumbled around her yawn.

“That’s okay. I have some issues with it too, but House Elves… sometimes change has to come from within. We can’t force liberty on them, because that would be worse than letting them do what they want. And according to Mimsy, a lot of them feel honored that their sleeping quarters are so close to our entrance–that they can help protect us at all times. Now then–”

“Oh, Danica… why are the first years not in bed yet?” Professor Sprout, who had been pointed out to us at the staff table, lightly chided from behind us. “Were you lecturing them on history?” She asked, amused.

Danica blushed, unable to deny it.

“Your passion is admirable, but you’re prefect for a reason. I’ll let you do your duties. Remember, tomorrow morning we have a House meeting,” With that, Professor Sprout made her way towards one of the many tunnel offshoots of the common room, presumably to her own quarters.

“Right then. For you first years, your rooms are down the tunnels furthest from the entrance; the left are the boys’ dorms, the right are the girls’,” She gestured appropriately while she spoke, “While you can go into other tunnels, you won’t be able to get into the rooms unless you are an inhabitant. Bedrooms should be safe spaces and it’s not fair to have others barge in whenever they want–it doesn’t matter what gender. The only exceptions to this are Professor Sprout, and the seventh year prefects. For the boys that’s Leonard Montgomery, and for the girls it’ll be me. As Professor Sprout said, there’ll be a House meeting tomorrow morning eight o’ clock. A prefect will knock on your door at half seven, but it’s your responsibility to get yourselves ready. Your luggage should be in your room–feel free to switch beds around, if you don’t like the one your trunk is in front of. Now off with you, just looking at all of your sleepy faces makes me feel sleepy,” She shooed us away and we trudged into our respective tunnels.

~
A/N: Still no plot, just some House Elf head-canons! Hermione’s SPEW was well-intended but without getting the opinion of the “victims” was just as high-handed as any master. Hogwarts is a safe haven for House Elves, you think muggleborn Hufflepuffs haven’t had a similar reaction to what is tantamount to slavery? SPEW really should have focused on getting abused House Elves out of their households and into Hogwarts, not taking them out of Hogwarts and into the streets. Like… where would they have gone if SPEW had successfully liberated them? There was no next step, which is highly problematic.

Running Backwards Chapter Five (2015-04-04)

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Dumbledore’s speech was as nonsensical and boring as it had been in canon. There hadn’t even been a forbidden third floor mentioned to spice things up. So it was unsurprising that eventually all of the Hufflepuffs around us just tuned him out and waited patiently for the food to appear.

I don’t know what the usual size of the student body is meant to be–Harry’s dorm room had five boys, but as far as I can remember Hermione’s only had three girls. On top of that, were certain houses more populated than others? Were certain years? Regardless, including Arthur, Cedric, and myself,  there were a total of four boys. The other boy that would be our roommate for the next seven years was Farold Stebbins. Except for grimacing when we misunderstood and called him Harold, he was congenial enough. A decent bloke to have as a roommate, but I wasn’t getting the same vibes of potential friendship as I had before with Arthur, Cedric, or Stephanie.

There were five Hufflepuff first year girls, though I only caught two of their names–Margaret Presley, who preferred to go by Maggie, and Heather Jarvis, who seemed to be rather timid when introducing herself then boisterous when talking about Charms.

I knew the wizarding world was larger than what Harry had been exposed to in the books, but I had still assumed that it was a fairly small society. Purebloods knowing each other as children, even half-bloods having recognizable surnames and relations to pureblood families; but this was not the case. I was the only muggleborn in my immediate vicinity–sitting between Arthur and Cedric, across from Maggie, Heather, and Farold–and yet it was the first time anyone met each other.

I suppose this wasn’t something that could be chalked up to Harry’s obliviousness or House-blindness so much as his social circle. Despite the conflicts inherent in their ideology, Harry only interacted with the upper echelons of wizarding society. And I don’t just mean Draco Malfoy or Neville Longbottom or Sirius Black. Despite their financial struggles, the Weasleys were well known and well connected, Shacklebolt was head of the aurors and poised to become the new Minister, Dumbledore’s active, personal interest in Harry gave him an enviable social capital which was superfluous considering his celebrity status. He was networking with highly important people without even knowing it, without even trying–no wonder Slughorn wanted him in the Slug Club.

But I digress. There was more to the wizarding world than what Harry had seen, and it was what I would be part of for the next seven years. The background extras, the silent majority, the sheep. Except for Cedric, who was only important as a teenage martyr, no one in my immediate vicinity would ever be on Harry Potter’s radar. For all I know, I’m canon.

It was a disturbing thought which made me lose my appetite, conveniently after I had finished my meal but sadly before I could partake in the custard in front of me.

“No pudding, Rey?” Arthur asked, reaching over to swipe one of the raspberry tarts before Heather, who had already eaten three, could finish them off. Not that that was a problem, considering the House Elves in the kitchens could easily make more.

“No pudding,” I echoed, swirling my spoon through the dregs of sauce that remained on my plate.

“Not hungry?” This time Cedric asked, his own plate holding a slice of chocolate cake.

“Not hungry,” I echoed, again, before realizing how poor of a conversationalist I was being, “I guess I just ate fast. I’m pretty full already. Kind of sleepy…” I trailed off, wincing. That wasn’t a sterling example of conversation either.

But Maggie picked up my tenuous thread, “Oh, me, too. Today was very exciting but very tiring.” A yawn broke across her face, and she abandoned her fork to prop her elbow on the table and lean her face into her hand.

Like a wave, Heather yawned, then Farold, and on both sides of me I heard my friends yawn. Overwhelmed, I did so too. We blinked sleepily at each other before giggling.

“Looks like it’s bed time for the firsties!” One of the older students called out, not unkindly. Whether it was a signal or not, soon enough we were dismissed from the Great Hall. Following after the Hufflepuff prefects, we made our way to the Hufflepuff dorms–my home for the next seven years of my life.

~
A/N: This is both slower going and faster than I expected. I didn’t think it would take me five “chapters” to not even get to the dorm rooms yet, but I’m also surprised I even wrote five chapters… Usually I write an outline only or one or two chapters and then… just stop. Let’s hope I didn’t jinx myself.

Running Backwards Chapter Four (2015-04-02)

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Hogwarts castle is like a geode–the outside is tough, but inside is all vivid colors and mesmerizing shapes. Oh, sure, the stonework outside was the same, but inside is where Hogwarts truly came to life. We could see the staircases moving above us, portraits peeking in curiosity at our little herd. And the ceiling of the Great Hall was literally marvelous.

In a way, being an unsorted Hogwarts student would be the last time all of us were equals. Blood purity, magical versus not childhoods, fore-knowledge of spells–none of that mattered when all of us were gaping at Hogwarts in amazement. Even having watched the movies, I was as unprepared as the next child–who in this case was Cedric, a pureblood–and the one after that, who really was a normal muggleborn.

But soon enough, I felt the eyes of the crowd on us. And while I was one amongst many I couldn’t help but hunch my shoulders and duck close to Cedric who had an unenviable four inches of height on me. I knew it was mostly benign attention and nothing personal, probably wondering how many first years would be sorted into their respective houses, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I stood out I would be hunted.

Which is unfortunate, considering the method of Sorting literally has one called out by name and seated at the front of the hall. So while my fellow first years murmured in shock about the sentience of the Sorting Hat, my head was on a swivel–scanning the rest of the hall and all the very many people in it.

My surname started with C, which meant, probably, I would get it over with early without having to be the dreaded first position. Fortunately there was an “Avery, Cornelius” and a “Burke, Octavia,” ahead of me–the former sorted into Ravenclaw, the latter into Slytherin.

“Chason, Reyniero,” Professor McGonagall called, and I tried not to wince when all eyes turned to me, as predicted. I also tried not to trip as I walked to the stool, but I suppose I can be glad that I managed to catch myself before I fell. I sat, trying to keep my gaze on my new friends instead of staring fearfully at everyone else in the room. Thankfully, the Sorting Hat was placed on my head, the width easily causing it to fall down to my eye level.

My mind was open.

Not that much. You’re surprisingly steady beneath the nerves. Unusual for a child… then again you don’t truly consider yourself as one. Do you?

I didn’t want to respond.

Come now, this is one of the most interesting minds I’ve seen in centuries.

So I didn’t.

You wouldn’t deprive an old hat of a little entertainment. The headmaster’s office gets so boring, and Fawkes is a terrible conversationalist.

Really?

Yes. Though according to your memories, none of this is real.

Was he having an existential crisis during my sorting?

I’m a talking hat, I have other reasons to have existential crises over.

I waited for the hat to get back on topic.

Yes, very well. Muggleborn, oughtn’t put you in Slytherin then, not that you have any cunning or ambition to speak of.

I had kept my past life secret so far, lies of omission counted, right?

Hardly the tools of a master manipulator. And to what end? Not that you want to be in Slytherin.

Of course not.

Nor Gryffindor.

That would have been terrible.

A mind in that noggin of yours, doubly so with that condition. Your head start would help you fit in with Ravenclaw quite nicely.

Were those puns?

Ah, but I see the truth. You want to be in–

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

I guess it seemed like an obvious choice, even if it was one I had made subliminally. Talking to the hat, it didn’t feel like my Sorting had taken that long at all. But when it was pulled off my head, I could see everyone looking mildly to majorly irritated. There was clapping, of course, but as I took my seat at the Hufflepuff table I could hear some older Gryffindors behind me grumbling. Merlin’s balls, a Hatstall that long just for a ‘Puff?

Immediately after me was Cedric who was also sorted into Hufflepuff. I was relieved to find I hadn’t done anything to irrevocably change canon in less than a day. And, funnily enough, following him was Arthur who had also been declared Hufflepuff. As they sat down next to me we grinned and nudged at each other playfully.

Stephanie, after Arthur, I wasn’t surprised to see get sorted into Ravenclaw, though I was a little disappointed. We could still be friends, of course, and judging by her teasing pout she would make it so.

The sorting went on, but I didn’t really care all that much. I recognized some of the Gryffindors–the ones that Harry had bothered to notice–like Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, and the Weasley twins. And the name Adrian Pucey–Slytherin–sounded vaguely familiar. But I was mostly just whiling away my time until finally the last of us, “Yaxley, Mitchell,” had been sorted.

Then, once the tired, impatient applause petered out, Dumbledore stood up.

~

A/N: He’s not really going to say anything important. But it seemed like a good spot to stop as any.

Running Backwards Chapter Three (2015-04-01)

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I wouldn’t say we became as thick as thieves right then and there. For one thing, I was still myself–as prone to hesitation as ever–for another, I’ve always found that good friendships, the strong ones that can bear through anything, ought to be built with care and time. What I was feeling was the potential for life-long friendships: I could imagine myself spending the next seven years at Arthur’s side even when he waxed poetic about beetles. I could envision myself reluctantly and bemusedly allowing Stephanie to practice minor spells on me. I could so easily see myself disregarding canon and risking everything so that Cedric wouldn’t be just a killed spare.

I wasn’t at that point yet; but the Triwizard Tournament wouldn’t be until our sixth year. To put it bluntly, I didn’t care that much about him yet. And, to put it even more bluntly, he wasn’t real to me yet. It was easy to like Stephanie and Arthur because they were likable people, but in Cedric’s case… he was still partially a fictional character. Oh, the helpful boy with a soft smile and love for dogs and Quidditch was a person, but Cedric Diggory? Hufflepuff Hogwarts champion? First casualty in the second war against Voldemort? Those were just titles, just symbols, they weren’t tangible like an eleven year old child was. Time would help; maybe in time I would prioritize his life alongside mine, but not yet.

When it was time to change into our uniforms, the compartment across from us had mixed genders too, so Stephanie went across to change with the girls while the two second year boys temporarily joined us. Both of them were Ravenclaws, and had distractedly rambled about their hopes to get on the Quidditch team this year. Cedric, as personable as I’d come to expect, continued the conversation by peppering them with questions, while Arthur, uninterested, and I, inexperienced, just tried to tie our un-sorted black ties properly. When Stephanie came back, she rolled her eyes and fixed the mess we’d made of ourselves.

It was dark by the time the train began to decelerate to a stop. Everyone began disembarking, the return students headed in one direction while the first years followed the sound of what had to be Hagrid’s booming call. The four of us stuck together despite the crush of people, Arthur and Stephanie ahead of me and babbling about different Sorting rumors they’d heard from older relatives. I tried not to shake with nerves, but I probably failed, because Cedric bumped shoulders with me in a companionable gesture, smile comforting.

“I’m just… I mean, I didn’t even know magic was real three months ago and suddenly I’m going to Hogwarts, you know?” I tried to defend myself against a criticism that didn’t come.

Cedric just nodded, “I’ve grown up with magic my whole life so I’ve always known I’d go to Hogwarts one day. It must all be such a rush for you, it’s okay to be a little nervous. I’m a little nervous, too.”

He was just a child. I was the one with an additional twenty odd years of life experience, I should be the one comforting him! But I couldn’t help the rush of sheepish gratitude and smiled back at him.

Obviously it would be us four in one boat. We kept up a steady, distracting conversation after spotting Arthur’s anxious grip on his seat, so it wasn’t until we saw his face open with awe that three of us looked up to see the Hogwarts castle. It was beautiful.

It was also… formidable. This was a structure that not only stood the test of magic, but of time. It was a building that had outlasted it’s founders, that could very well outlast every single one of it’s occupants. While the Hogwarts Express had been like something out of a child’s daydream, the castle was unmistakable as a cumulation of the ambition, ingenuity, and hard work of fully grown wizards and witches.

All of our faces were turned upwards as we approached the doors, trying to soak in the sight of our new home. Professor McGonagall waited for us, acknowledging Hagrid briefly before ushering us all inside.

~
A/N: I honestly did want to get to the Sorting… buuut, I wanted to post this already. 😛 NEXT TIME!