harry potter

lily evans

harry james potter

it’s something else detected underneath her intelligence—a certain kind of bravery. yes, she would do well in ravenclaw. yes, she would find a home within the walls of books but something about the way she walked to the front of the great hall and something about the way she sat on the stool and something about the way she questioned the sorting hat made it think twice about placing her in ravenclaw.

after all, hermione would need the courage she held inside her muggleborn blood and sharp intelligence. so the hat placed her in gryffindor.

harry james potter is called to the front of the great hall, and he takes unstable steps in an effort to make it to the stage, and the stability, he hoped he would reach. professor mcgonagall places the sorting hat on his head, and harry waits for a few seconds that feel like hours. the entire hall is so silent harry worries that every soul in the building could hear his thoughts.

the sorting hat sees harry’s cunning and ambition. it sees an entire experience waiting for harry in slytherin, and emerald green seeps into harry’s thoughts, but he doesn’t want it. his whole life harry had been labeled the “outsider.” aunt petunia, uncle vernon, and dudley dursley never made harry feel at home not to mention the school environment he was tormented in. then as soon as he was introduced to the wizarding world he was introduced to his real story, and the life he spent wanting to fit in escaped him once again. harry did not want to be slytherin. he did not want to be labeled closer to voldemort than he was—he did not want strangers to see red eyes when they looked into his green ones.

not slytherin, not slytherin, not slytherin, he chanted in his mind. so the sorting hat agreed, and shouted a “GRYFFINDOR!” that was met with wild applause sand a wash of crimson and gold from one of the house tables. harry let out a sigh of relief and the sorting hat was content. it knew that harry valued courage, and it knew that someday he would need that courage more so than he could ever have dreamed.

ronald bilius weasley walks timidly forward to the stool and the sorting hat. when professor mcgonagall places it on his head, it knows almost instantly where he should be. or maybe it knows almost instantly where he wants to be.

ron had just watched harry be placed in gryffindor and he knew that his entire family were alumni of the gryffindor house. forever he had wanted to come out of the shadows cast over him by his brothers and be something different but he was terrified of disappointing them. the hat thought for a moment, a part of it knowing that ron’s loyalty pulled the decision toward hufflepuff.

yet the hat knew that ron would need his courage more than anything. it knew that over the duration of his time at hogwarts, the most important thing for ron would be bravery, and it hoped that being in gryffindor would not make ron sink into the shadows once again, but reach him to have the courage to stand out.

draco malfoy knows he must be in slytherin. he has to be in slytherin. he couldn’t stand to be in hufflepuff, and gryffindor would be horrendous. he supposes that ravenclaw would be his second choice, but—why is he thinking about second choices?

he has to be a slytherin. there’s no other option.

the student body is starting to stare. it’s been three minutes and the sorting hat still hasn’t placed him, and oh god he feels so embarrassed because how could he be anything other than slytherin? the news of the hat’s prolonged hesitation will surely get back to his father, and now that it’s taken so long if he’s put in slytherin—when he’s put in slytherin—his whole house may hate him for even thinking about going elsewhere.

draco malfoy sighs and urges the sorting hat to hurry up. his silver eyes dart back and forth from the rightmost table to the left.

unexpectedly and as if without consulting draco himself, the sorting hat declares “GRYFFINDOR!” and draco feels his life must be over.

there must be a mistake, he mumbles. maybe this is a dream.

he remains seated and whispers start circulating in the great hall. professor mcgonagall walks over to him, clears her throat, lifts the hat off of his head, and tells him he can take his seat at the gryffindor house table.

no, draco thinks. no, no, no.

but he does. and he’s not sure why and he’s not sure what will happen but he sits down at the gryffindor table, periodically making eye contact with a slytherin and they glare and look away.

everything is wrong, draco thinks.

harry speaks confidently to ron and hermione. their uncertain faces display fear that he will never make it back but harry’s face is glowing with pride and confidence. and perhaps he’s right! dumbledore is the only wizard that he-who-must-not-be-named ever feared, so perhaps it is dumbledore’s presence that will be the force that brings harry home again.

or, perhaps more likely, it is dumbledore’s presence that makes harry believe he will make it home—and that belief is what keeps him going.

perhaps the power that harry sees in dumbledore is the leftover strength from his youth combined with the reflection of harry’s own, because as dumbledore proves to be weak with age and with everything he passed catching up to him, harry is the one who proves to be strong—to be able to find his strength and power in the cold darkness, as he keeps telling his professor not to worry, that they will make it out, that he will get them home, and dumbledore whispers:

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james potter takes a deep breath and yells to lily to take harry and run. he knows this may be the last breath he takes, and it’s too soon, it’s too soon, but he prepares himself for what he knows is coming, and he promises to hold voldemort off long enough for his wife and son to find safety. wandless, james potter falls to the floor, his last breath having escaped him and his last thought of the promise he couldn’t keep.

sirius black stands in the gryffindor common room, a charming smile on his face and the sweet aftertaste of euphoria after gryffindor won the quidditch match against slytherin. the common room is wild—people are running around, re-enacting slytherin missteps, discussing epic hogwarts moments, and playing truth or dare in the center of the room. sirius’ mind wanders to his brother, regulus, who would be sulking after losing the match, but he quickly snaps out of it and joins his friends in their celebration.

sirius black stands in the middle of the street, a cold, empty laugh coming from his solemn face as he stares at peter, the traitor responsible for the deaths of his best friends. his mind wanders to his brother, james potter, who would be laughing with his son on halloween right now if it weren’t for peter—the man they trusted with their lives. he watches peter disappear and sirius black laughs, because what else is he going to do? he doesn’t want to think about spending the rest of his life in azkaban, letting his soul rot and his heart grow cold without the warmth his friends always provided him with.

remus lupin is sitting on the bed in the boys’ gryffindor dormitories. the fifth years are all awake, talking and laughing and planning future pranks. they enjoy the quiet, dimly lit common room, and continue their secretive work. james, sirius, and peter all know that remus is a werewolf, and they don’t think any less of him for it. for once in a very long time, remus thinks he knows what home feels like.

remus lupin is sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night—his only light comes from the moon and the street lamp, but it wouldn’t matter if it was pitch black. there is no one for remus to see anymore. two of his best friends are dead and one is a murderer. he remembers nights that they spent together in the common room, lights on when they should’ve been out and minds awake dreaming when they should’ve been dreaming asleep. he thinks, perhaps, that he never really knew what home feels like.

peter pettigrew lies awake in the dormitory, whispers of goodnight are exchanged and he feels powerful. he feels high on the combination of the quidditch victory and the night of celebration and fun. with the marauders, he feels included. he feels trusting and he knows they trust him back. he closes his eyes that night, trusting that when he opened them in the morning, all would be well.

peter pettigrew lies awake. he feels a strange combination of powerful and empty, and he thinks about how much they trusted him, and he says to himself maybe they shouldn’t have. but he smiles to himself with the knowledge that he will be in good hands next to voldemort’s side, that voldemort won’t let him down, that voldemort will make him feel powerful. but all voldemort did was make him feel small.

they watched as kids spoke the name voldemort and raised their wands to meet the forces they shouldn’t ever have to meet, much less as children. they watched the room of requirement turn from a classroom to a hideout to a hospital for all the fighters who fell during battle.

ravenclaws procrastinate everything until the last minute, obviously. they are known for staying up til 2 am cram-studying for exams or accepting their fate and sitting in the common room, not studying at all. during exam week, the common room usually features a lot of chaos—there are some pacing and venting while others sit in the chairs and listen, there are ravenclaws who have given up and are throwing popcorn into each other’s mouths, there are various students scattered across the ground in the fetal position.

hufflepuffs organize study sessions where students from all houses are welcome. the hufflepuff common room is a life saver when it comes time for exams, because there’s always students willing to help those who seek it. a few students always run over to the kitchens to bring snacks to studious kids preparing for exams. some get distracted by the food, others take breaks from their textbooks every five minutes, others are the reason there are spells flying around the room. more independent students stay in their dormitories, working quietly alone, trying to get ahead of their stress and managing their time so that they don’t get overwhelmed.

slytherins retreat from lots of activities when they’re dealing with stress. they’re overwhelmed, but won’t show it. their stress often stays in the back of their minds while they continue on with life, but they’re constantly going through notes and processes to evaluate their stress, hoping to get some clarity. usually they just take a deep breath and hope for the best. when exam week comes around, they walk the line between weirdly calm and chaotically worried, while some display a desirably sense of confidence. slytherin houses the widest variety of responses to stress.

7 am—the sun is awoken and shines through the scattered branches of the trees. the ravenclaw common room is flooded with light, and some students are out of bed and beginning their days while others remain fast asleep, their rest undisturbed by the songs of the birds. house elves begin making breakfast and students prepare for class, a few always rushing to finish the homework they had convinced themselves they’d do the night before.

11 am—the hogwarts grounds are bright with a misty sunlight and various groups of students wander across the campus. the greenhouses are full of students and a few promising gasps that mean professor sprout has most likely revealed a new plant species that may have a shocking and unexpected defense mechanism. groups of friends sit in the great hall, snacking and talking during their free time.

3 pm—almost all students are finishing up their classes and will enjoy the time off before dinner in the great hall. a few students stay in their dormitories, hiding as an escape from a dreaded class. when the bell rings, gryffindors flood out of a classroom and proceed to the moving staircases, students splitting off as necessary. one trio takes a detour to the library while a group of four boys heads toward their common room.

7 pm—the great hall is alive with laughter as students file in and file out, every individual finding a feast at their house table. the house elves are at work in the kitchens, a sense of satisfaction washing over them as students from different houses marvel over every bite of food. people retreat to their common rooms after eating unless they have a previous arrangement or somewhere else to be.

11 pm—the lights in hagrid’s hut shut out and students are confined to their common rooms. some slytherins are awake and anything but bored with their conversations. students in their dormitories toss and turn while others are fast asleep. the gentle sound of nighttime puts them to sleep. the hogwarts professors are still awake and filch patrols the corridors, hoping to catch someone out of bed. occasionally a student will be out of bed, but usually cautious enough to know how not to get caught.

in harry’s second year, he fell to his knees at the hands of the basilisk venom coursing through his veins like adrenaline once had, but no amount of blood or adrenaline was enough to remedy the invasion of the venom. he began to accept death, not knowing that he would do so again several years later, before being saved by the very tears of the phoenix whose feather lay in the wand that seemed miles from harry’s fingertips.

in harry’s sixth year, he watched dumbledore meet the death he considered an adventure. he lay helplessly under the invisibility cloak, frozen by spell and then by shock as the man he thought invincible shook death’s hand at last.

fawkes soared above the hogwarts grounds singing his lament to the mourners gathered at the news that dumbledore had died. he spread beauty to those in pain, a way of healing the injuries they suffered, but there was no longer a reason for fawkes to remain near the castle, so he departed.