Untitled Peverell drabble (2015-03-19)

The night of the 1938 Sorting was one that Albus will remember for the rest of his life; but not for the reason he had expected. For the most part it was completely normal, or as normal as a magical school in a magical castle could be. There had been dark clouds heavy with moisture all day, ready to empty themselves, and as soon as the sun set they had done so. Right on the unlucky first years crossing the lake. It didn’t deter the majority of them, as eager and wide-eyed at the prospect of learning magic as before. In fact, it was as good an introduction as any: he greeted them at the doors and waved his wand, casting drying and warming charms on the whole lot of them.

Some of them chirped and giggled at each other, the ones new to magic especially amazed; while others, those who had come from wizarding households, were quick to pat down tufts of hair and straighten out their robes. He had his eye on one boy who really ought to have been part of the former, but reacted more like the latter with even less tolerance in his scowl, and thus he missed a pair of students. Though it was probably because they were already immaculately dry, that Albus had assumed he had already gotten them. It would be the first and only time that he would make such a mistake.

The Hogwarts ghosts made their rounds, initiating another burst of high pitched chatter, before Albus called for all of their attention again. He explained, without revealing, what would happen and what would be expected of them during the Sorting. With that done, he finally led them into the Great Hall, where they oohed and aahed at the enchanted ceiling and the veteran students began their own informal rituals of the Welcoming Feast.

On the stool sat the Sorting Hat, and in Albus’ hand the lesser known Sorting Scroll, for both were artifacts of Hogwarts. The Scroll would not fill itself with names until after the Hat sang, so although Albus had an idea of who composed the first year class it would be as much of a surprise to him as anyone else. Perhaps even more so.

Because even before he got to the name of that scowling boy he had been dreading, there were two names which stole his breath.

“Peverell, Hesperian,” and a boy with hair as dark as night, eyes as green as new life, walked up to the stool and sat. Were it not for the small stature and the clinging baby fat, the boy would be a perfect match for Albus’ own imaginings of the legendary Peverell brothers.

But, that was not it. For after Peverell, Hesperian had been sorted into Ravenclaw, there was,

“Peverell, Luciana,” and a girl with hair like starlight, eyes the same silvery grey as a ghost, walked up to the stool and sat. And perhaps Albus had gone mad, for she too looked a heroine of myth and legend. And she too was sorted into Ravenclaw.

Even as he called out the name of that scowling boy, who unexpectedly was sorted into Slytherin, all Albus could think of were those two new Ravenclaws. 

And thus a timeline was changed.


A/N: This is a little something that I’ve been wanting to work on for a while but have always been putting off since I’m afraid my writing isn’t good enough for it. But you know what? If I don’t write it, it’s never going to be done, so no matter how badly I may cringe at my prose I say bring it on.

Unfortunately, I do not have a title for it yet… but if you want to “spoil” yourselves here is the outline/brainstorming for this series.