Leave Out All The Rest

The Sorting of the New Generation

Chapter Four: The Sorting of the New Generation

POV: Albus and Rose

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was by all intents and purposes, a badass. Yes, she ran this historic and prestigious school with an iron fist for over twenty years (some would say more), but she was also an undercover agent. At her two hundred years of age (or however old she was), she was still a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a "secret" organization that fought evil (although everyone claimed it had been disbanded after the Second War, but we all knew they still met up from time to time). McGonagall was incredibly intimidating, especially when her sharp, dark eyes found you and held you down without so much of a blink from her part. There were even rumours she could turn into a wild predator (but those I had yet to find any evidence of). She was ruthless and unnerving—but throw her in the unforgivable mix that was my family and I can assure the poor woman was out of her element.

Case and point: McGonagall was just approaching the golden podium at the front of the Great Hall to address her students when the doors banged open, letting in a commotion of flapping robes and ginger hair. 

"Troll in the dungeon! Troll in the bloody dungeon!" wheezed my cousin Fred Weasley II (Freddie does the trick, actually). 

When he collapsed on the floor space between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, the crowd erupted into fits of laughter. Beside me, Rose's face was melting into that of worry and shock (as was most other First Years), but then Freddie jumped up, bowing and waving at his peers. He was a bit of a diva.

"Mister Weasley," hissed the Headmistress, bringing upon immediate silence, "what is the meaning of this?"

"Would you believe I thought there really was a troll in the dungeon, but it was just Peeves shape-shifting again?" Freddie asked, batting his eyes at the woman. When her stern expression did not change he said with a sigh, "I'll find Mister Filch after the feast to take my detention. Two weeks seem okay?"

"A month," said McGonagall.

Freddie pretended to sulk as he made way to join James at the Gryffindor table. Once he sat down, James clapped him hard on the back, grinning like an idiot. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts, First Years," although this sentiment was meant to be cheery, the Headmistress lacked any when she followed it with, "As all prior students know, the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students who do not wish to die a most painful death. Secondly, our Caretaker, Mister Filch, would like me to remind you that all Weasleys Wizard Wheezes products are banned from the castle."

"Uncle George is a terrible influence on children," Rose murmured, nudging her head at the cluster of boys sneaking smirks at one another, mischievous glints in their eyes. 

I scoffed. "He likes a laugh, that's all."

Rose scoffed back, too. "Right."

"When I call your name," Professor Horton was speaking now as the Headmistress took her seat, "you will come forward, I will place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your House."

A rush of panic surged through my body, making me think I was a few seconds from collapsing here and there, but the thought of James never letting that go kept me steady on my shaking knees. 

"Abbot, Gloria!" A girl with bright orange hair stumbled to the stool at the center of the stage where the sorting hat awaited. Her hands shook when Professor Horton placed it on her head, but in two seconds it bellowed "HUFFLEPUFF" and all her fear was gone. A cheering table awaited to welcome her home.