acquainting with ally
.✧･ﾟ: ༉‧₊˚✧
𝕬lcyone Lily Black of Cheryl Cottage, Ottery St Catchpole, was proud to say that she was far from perfectly normal, thank you very much.
To some, it was because she was a witch. Ally Black bled red like every other child, but she had grown up in a world that was strange to many — of talking mirrors and self-tying shoelaces, where the wind passed you by a little more tenderly, and the labyrinth of the gods grew a little less twisted.
Most days, however, she did not feel normal even by magical standards. The only daughter of a famous Auror and an equally-famous mass-murderer, her family's haunted past hung like background radiation behind every ripple she made on the space-time canvas of her life.
Still — pushing her trolley through the crowded King's Cross station on the first of September — Ally looked around the myriad of mystical faces around her, and decided she had learned to like her life well enough. For all the shackles she would never be able to shed, there was her loving godfather, who she was sure had hung the stars in the sky, and another cupboard full of trophies to her name.
"Moony, for the last time, it's fine."
At eleven-and-a-half years, Ally Black was something of a sight to behold — fiery red hair swept behind her ears, eyes as grey as the sky overhead, and glitter smattered across the ugly green sweater her mother had forced her into in case it got cold on the train. Beside her walked a gangly man with hair the colour of spun caramel, streaked grey where the sugar had been burned before its time.
His name was Remus Lupin, although he had a nickname and he somewhat preferred it.
"I know you wanted your mother to see you off to your first-year," he spoke, a pacifying lilt to his voice. "She really is sorry, Pawslette — you know how hectic things can get at the Ministry — "
"Yes, yes, I know," Ally interrupted impatiently, "and I told you, it's fine. Can we go, now?"
She did know. Ariana Black had always been a busy woman, too busy for such trivial things as seeing her daughter off to boarding school. Ally was fine with it, she had spent years learning to be.
Remus sighed. He might have believed her, had he not had to see the sad look in her eyes at every kart race and nursery function Auror Black would not deign to attend. As they approached the barrier that separated platforms nine and ten, he placed a supportive hand on the trolley handle.
"Ready when you are."
Ally gripped the trolley handle tighter, saying nothing.
"On the count of seven?" suggested Remus. She nodded.
"I'm here with you, Pawslette," he promised. "One . . . two . . . "
"Three . . . " muttered Ally, jaw tautening in determination.
"Four . . . five . . . six . . . " he encouraged, " . . . seven!"
Together, they set off at a run.
For a long time, platform nine and three-quarters was frozen in Ally's memory amidst the scent of burning charcoal, wispy steam curling around her lashes like fairy floss. She stood still for a few seconds after crossing the barrier, eyes shut, half-afraid of the new chapter that waited beyond these train doors.
Remus checked his watch. "Quarter to eleven. We made good time."
A bright, scarlet steam engine stood on the tracks, bearing the signboard Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock. Cats of every colour wound here and there between legs, and the prattling crowd seemed to swallow her whole. At the edge of the platform, a red-headed family stood in a cluster : three boys huddled up around a plump woman who was holding the hand of a small girl.
"There they are, there they are!" Ally exclaimed happily, ducking below Remus's arm and darting towards the family.
"Ron! Oy — Ron!"
Ron Weasley, the youngest of the boys, looked around just in time — next moment, he was staggering under a heavy weight, hearing Ally's excited voice in surround sound.
"Oh, Ron, it's been weeks! Why don't you ever write? I missed you so!"
"Ally's here!" Ginny, his sister, squealed in delight. "Ally's here!"
Had they been without the company of his brothers, Ron might have responded just as fervently, perhaps even apologised for not writing — but then Fred Weasley let out a loud snigger, and his ears reddened.
"Gerroff!" He pushed her away, and plucked a long strand of copper hair from his tongue with disgust. Ginny hastened to take his place, singing, "Ally's here!" even more loudly.
" — it's been torture, not being able to talk about Hogwarts!" Ally was saying happily, putting an arm around Ginny's shoulder to steady them. "Moony's been helping me through our set books, you know, but — oh, wherever's Percy gotten to?"
"Remus, there you are," said Mrs Weasley, as Remus came into sight pushing Ally's laden trolley. She frowned. "Have you been eating? You look awfully pale, you should stop by for dinner sometime — "
"I'm all right, Molly." Remus smiled, sunlight catching on his scars. "Only a little tired . . . this one's a handful, though she sure does brighten up the house."
"Doesn't she just?" Mrs Weasley said fondly. "Ginny's been in a right mood all month — and don't even get me started on Ron."
At this, the identical twins burst into laughter.
"Oh, did ickle Ronnie miss his favourite Ally-Bear?" George Weasley taunted.
"Shut up," said Ron.
"I say, where's Percy?" Ally repeated impatiently, craning her neck in the direction of the train.
"Gone off to the Prefect's compartment." Fred grimaced as though the word left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, before brightening again.
"Hey, Cyo, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"
"Who?" she asked curiously.
"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station?" George added to his mother. "Know who he is?"
"Who?" Ally asked again, more impatiently.
"Harry Potter!"
Remus stilled as though his blood had been turned to marble.
"Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him?" said Ginny, emerging from behind Ally. "Mum, oh, please . . . "
"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you ogle at in a zoo," said Mrs Weasley. "Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"
"Asked him," said Fred. "Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning."
"It's not just lightning," said Ally eagerly. She'd read all about Harry Potter and the way he had defeated the Dark Lord at the tender age of one. "It's shaped like the wand movement of Avada Kedavra — that's the Killing Curse, you know."
Ginny's eyes protruded comically. "How d'you know that?"
"Read it," said Ally, with a sliver of pride. "You know I can lend you some of my books, Gin, I've got loads . . . "
"But I shan't like to read about the Killing Curse!" said Ginny, quivering slightly.
"Well, why not?"
"Because not all of us are sneaky Slytherins," Fred supplied, smirking. "You know what they say — not a witch or wizard who was in Slytherin that didn't go bad!"
"I'm not going to be in Slytherin!" Ally flared up.
Remus clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Easy, Pawslette. Well, Molly, I should be going now. Lovely seeing you, boys . . . "
Dropping a soft kiss on his goddaughter's head, Remus turned to leave, but then Ally had come apart from Ginny, and was surging forwards to seize him by the sleeve.
"Wait, Moony!" She hesitated. "Can you — er — "
Remus stopped. "What is it, Pawslette?"
"I have to ask you something."
He glanced back at Fred and George, hoping against hope that it wasn't what he'd suspected. "Yes?"
Ally tugged him further away from the Weasleys, and he kneeled to look her in the eye.
"What is it?" Remus repeated softly.
"I — " Her round cheeks reddened. "Moony, you don't think I'll be in Slytherin, do you?"
He released a breath he did not know he was holding. "Do you think it matters, baby star?"
"I don't know," said Ally, frowning. "Draco used to say all Blacks become Slytherins, but I don't want to. What if no one in Slytherin likes me? I don't — I don't fancy being lonely, Moony."
"You won't be lonely," Remus said reassuringly. "You have the Weasleys, don't you?"
"They'll hate me if I end up in Slytherin!" she insisted, eyes widening. "You heard Fred and George, they think all Slytherins are evil — "
"And if you do end up in Slytherin, they'll know they were wrong."
"It's not just that!" Ally blurted out. "I want to be in Gryffindor, like you and Wormtail and Prongs and Lily! And — and even — "
She didn't finish, not that she needed to.
"You don't have to be like us, Pawslette," said Remus, patting her affectionately on the head. "You are more than the sum of those you hold dear."
Ally looked unsure. "But . . . "
"I understand your reservations," Remus went on, "but you know that your house is not your identity, baby star. You are a mixture of thoughts, beliefs, and actions, all of which are ever changing. And despite what history may suggest, defining 'good' and 'evil' is not as easy as assigning a collection of adjectives to a group of children.
"The choice the Hat makes is arbitrary to the person you are, and the person you will be. I want you to remember that, all right?"
"All right, Moony." Ally was still a little hesitant to meet his eyes, but she was a smart girl — Remus knew that when she thought upon his words, she would find all the assurance that she needed.
"Until then, you'll look after yourself, won't you?" He said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Remember, if someone says something uncalled for, you — "
" — punch them in the clock," Ally finished for him, lip twitching into a smile. "Yes, I remember everything you said last night."
Remus flushed red. "I didn't say that."
"Did too. You even taught me how to go for the carotid if — "
"Ah, well, I was a little, er, overenthusiastic last night," Remus said speedily. "Don't — er, I'd rather you just go to Professor Dumbledore."
"But that's no fun!"
"Ally!" called Mrs Weasley, as Remus struggled to contain his laughter. "The train's about to leave, dearest! Hurry up!"
"Oh." Ally glanced back over her shoulder. "Well, then. I suppose this is goodbye, Moony."
"No, it isn't." Remus grinned. "It's just see you later. You'll write to me, won't you?"
"Every week," Ally said firmly. "I love you, Moony."
And at those words, Remus felt the weight of the entire day fall upon him at once.
Being a parent meant growing again : meant getting on your knees and crawling, if only to see the world through your child's eyes. And Remus had spent so long crawling alongside Ally that he didn't know if he would be able to stand up without falling over.
"I love you too, Ally." His eyes watered a little. "Run along, now. I'll see you at Christmas."
Ally smiled, and hugged him one last time before turning around and disappearing into the thick steam.
As Remus turned to leave, he could not help but stop once again to breathe in the soft scent of smoke and nostalgia. Once upon a time, it had been him in her shoes — a nervous eleven year-old, with no one for company but the beast beneath his skin.
Then — for a moment — he had had a family.
( Sometimes, Remus still liked to break out imaginary brushes : paint illusions of bliss over his metaphorical scars, and fresco his longings into the walls of his heart. Sometimes, he liked to forget, to drown in colour until all his worries were nothing more than a scrape of paint on a worn canvas.
But colours too, like everything else, fade over time. )
Meanwhile, as Ally walked away from her Moony for the first time in her life, she was truly beginning to appreciate how alone she was — stranded on a sailboat in this sea of unfamiliar faces.
Slytherin doesn't sound too bad, to be honest, she reasoned weakly with herself. If only I had an ambition . . .
Hardly had this thought left her when the most brilliant flash of bright green caught her wandering eyes. White-hot pain shot through her chest like electricity, and all the air vanished from her lungs.
Ally doubled over in shock, clutching the front of her sweater, where the soft tissue felt like it was being ripped apart with a jagged rock. Agony as it was, it only lasted only for one, sempiternal second, before fading away completely.
Nerves tingling, she gasped for breath. What was that? Looking around, she met the startled gaze of — a boy.
Half-hidden within a compartment just across the Weasleys, he had a hand clamped over his forehead, looking just as shocked as her. Wide almond-shaped eyes, the colour of sunbathed Scottish forests, were hidden behind circular, untidily-Sellotaped glasses.
He stared at her, unwavering. And she stared right back.
At that moment, a loud whistle sounded, snapping both from their daze : the train was leaving the station. Ally reflexively raised a hand to hold her pointed hat in place as she hurried towards the Weasleys.
"Hurry up!" said Mrs Weasley, as Ally jogged into sight. "Oh, I can't believe this — Ally! There you are!"
"Sorry, Mrs Weasley — " she said in between breaths — "I got a bit distracted."
"No matter, no matter," Mrs Weasley said absently, "hurry on, now . . . "
Ron, Ally, Fred and George clambered onto the train, and Ginny began to cry.
"Cheer up, Gin," said Ally, leaning out of the window to wipe her tears away with a gentle touch. "We'll send you loads of owls!"
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat," added George, grinning.
"George!"
"Only joking, Mum."
Ginny, half-laughing and half-crying, ran to keep up with the train as it began to move, but once it had picked up too much speed, fell back and waved.
"C'mon," said Ron after they had rounded a bend, the wind whipping through his hair. "Let's go find a compartment."
"Want us to come with?" George offered.
"No," Ron said decisively. "We can do it ourselves, right, Al?"
"Right." Ally grinned. "We'll see you around."
Together, Ron and Ally set off down the corridor, peering through panelled windows into the compartments. The latter examined each of her new schoolmates carefully, almost as though she were looking for something — and when she found it, she made it known by coming to an abrupt stop.
"This one."
Ron paused, then frowned in confusion. The compartment Ally was pointing at was empty save for a small, scrawny boy blinking out the window, his hair an unruly mop of jet black.
"What?" said Ron. "No, we can find one for ourselves — "
"This one," Ally repeated firmly, sliding the door open.
𝕳arry Potter was alone.
He was no stranger to the feeling — despite being forced to call it so, number four, Privet Drive had never really been home to him. Everywhere he went, Harry felt some cruel solidarity, like a collapsed monument in a concrete jungle.
But that, he decided, was the past. Here, within the Hogwarts Express, with houses flashing past outside the windows, Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He did not know what he was going to, but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.
And then there was the girl.
The thought of her made a reappearance only when she slid the door of his compartment open and strutted in, dragging a harassed-looking red-head boy behind her.
Harry hadn't the faintest idea of who she was. The smile she had donned as soon as she saw the boy's family was vaguely familiar, but when he tried to reach for the memories, they slipped right through his fingers like winter fog.
And the way his forehead had burned the moment her ghostlike eyes met his — as though she had picked up a blade and carved out the scar tissue lining it. Harry shivered. He had no memory of something like that happening ever before, and it frightened him.
And now she was standing in his compartment.
"Anyone sitting there?" she spoke, with a voice that intended only to be heard. "Everywhere else is full."
Harry shook his head. The girl forced her friend forward, and opted for the seat beside him.
The red-head boy glanced at Harry as he sat down, and then looked quickly out of the window. He still had a black mark on his nose.
"Hey, Ron, Ally."
The twins were back. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Really?" Ally — Harry thought it was a pretty name — gasped, leaping up excitedly. "Can I come see, too?"
"No," said one twin bluntly, and she deflated piteously.
"Harry," said the other, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother — that's Ally Black, our next-door neighbour. See you, then."
"Bye," said Harry, Ally and Ron.
"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out, once they had left. Harry nodded.
"Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got — you know . . . "
Harry pulled back his fringe to show the lightning scar, and Ron stared. Ally felt her stomach tie itself up into knots.
So this was Harry Potter. This was the boy whose entire life had been swept away by her father's careless tide. Nausea accompanied the sudden epiphany that he might know, and might be repulsed by her very presence.
"So that's where You-Know-Who — ?" said Ron dazedly.
"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."
"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.
"Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."
"Wow," said Ron.
The next fleeting glimpse Harry dared to steal of her was like a cold wave of claustrophobia, and Ally found herself rising to her feet.
"Excuse me," she mumbled, reaching for the compartment handle.
"Oy, where d'you think you're going?" said Ron, hurriedly snapping out of his daze. "You're supposed to stay with me, Mum said — "
"I'll come back," Ally told him, finding the breath to smile in reassurance. But then, before Ron could say anything else, she had stepped out and slammed the door shut behind her.
"Dunno what's wrong with her," she heard Ron tell Harry, "but well, she's always been a bit weird about meeting new people. I bet she's gone running off to Percy right now."
"It's all right," answered Harry, sounding interested. "Are all of your family wizards?"
Ally, meanwhile, scowled. She was not weird about meeting new people! With the way he had been looking at her earlier, she was sure Harry Potter knew about the betrayal, and the last thing she wanted was to get caught up in some strange enmity with the Boy Who Lived.
She stalked reprovingly down the corridor, and did not stop this time until she reached the very last compartment. Through the glass window, she could spot the blurred outline of a boy with black hair, immersed completely into a well-loved paperback.
"Hi," greeted Ally, pulling the door open. "Mind if I sit here?"
He was a moment in emerging from the pages, but when he did she felt her impatience fizzle away like a damp firework. He was strikingly good-looking, inky black hair pushed lazily out of espresso-shot eyes, the planes of his face pale and so perfectly smooth.
"Not at all," he spoke, an endearing lilt to each word — a pure Essex accent.
Ally managed her most charming smile, but he had already returned his attentions to his book. She sat down, and scanned the cover : The Second Form at St. Clare's, by Enid Blyton.
"Ooh," she began eagerly, unable to help herself. "Ooh, I love St. Clare's. Are you only just in that book?"
"No, I've read them all," the boy said calmly.
Ally nodded approvingly. "I like The Twins At St. Clare's best."
Curious brown eyes emerged over the yellowing pages. "That's . . . my favourite, too."
She smiled happily. "What a curious coincidence!
"Choi," said the boy, putting aside his book and holding out a hand. "Min-Jung Choi — that's my name. Are you a first-year too?"
"I am!" Ally shook his hand firmly. "Ally Black."
She hated how bitter her own last name still tasted on her tongue. She had put it on top of timesheets and seen it lettered onto first-place trophies, but in the magical world Ally knew she would always be reduced back to a Death Eater's daughter.
Min-Jung, however, grinned at her. "You have the instrumentalist's fingers, Ally Black."
"Aye?"
"Calloused, and always cold," he explained. "Those are the fingers either of a string player, or a motor mechanic."
She chuckled, if a little confusedly. "I — er, I've never touched a stringed instrument in my life — "
"Then you are a racer," Min-Jung said simply, letting go of her hand. Ally gaped open-mouthedly at him — how had he known?
"I play the violin," he continued, showing her his own hands : they too were hard, each fingertip roughened from years of flattening strings. "My dad taught me, although he always says my mum used to be more talented — "
"Used to be?"
Min-Jung's pretty eyes dimmed, and the smile slid off his face like water. "Yeah. She — er, she passed when I was little."
Ally's stomach turned over. "Oh. I — I'm so sorry, I didn't know — "
"It's cool." He shrugged his shoulders, feigning indifference. "I never really knew her anyway."
There was a pause, and Ally felt her forgotten woes stir in their grave.
"But that's what hurts, isn't it?" she said vacantly, speaking aloud the train of thoughts that had troubled her during many a sleepless night for the first time.
"When you've known them, you've got like . . . a bit of them, to keep in your heart at all times." She turned a wistful gaze to the window. "But when you haven't, you don't have anything to fill the hole they've left. It's just there, and it's painful. You know?"
Trailing off, she returned to reality to find Min-Jung's eyes glazed with tears. Her heart sputtered to a stop.
"Oh, no, I'm so sorry!" Ally rushed out, cursing her inarticulacy. "I just — urgh, Ron's right, I am weird around new people — "
"No, it's all right. Really," Min-Jung said wetly, wiping his eyes. "I should never have brought it up if I was going to be such a baby about it, it's been years and I still — I'm sorry — "
"No!" Ally interrupted quickly. "How about we both leave off the apologies?"
"That sounds nice," said Min-Jung, relieved. "So — er — can we be f–friends, then?"
Friends. Ally felt her heart leap. She had never had a friend — well, unless she counted Prongsie, but she highly doubted a stuffed stag toy made the cut. And here was her chance to show Ron that she was perfectly capable of abandoning him if she wanted to.
"Friends is good," she said, beaming. "We can be friends."
𝕬fter a long, satisfying chat with Min-Jung about the entirety of Enid Blyton's works, Ally found herself returning to Ron's compartment with a light skip in her step.
It was getting dark. Mountains and forests blotted black against a deep purple sky, and the train was beginning to slow down. A sniffy-looking girl with bushy hair swept past her on the way, already changed and set to go.
"Where've you been?" demanded Ron, hauling Ally into the compartment as soon as she opened the door. "You said you'd stick with me this year, you know, you can't just go off with Percy every time — "
"I made a new friend," Ally announced proudly, pulling on long black robes over her sweater.
Ron stared blankly at her for a split-second, then decided, "Fibber."
"I'm not fibbing!" she insisted. "His name's Min-Jung, he's read ever so many books, and he plays the violin! I do hope we're in the same house, he's so lovely — "
"Stop making things up!" Ron said loudly.
"I'm not making anything up!" Ally said scathingly. "I can have friends if I want to, you know! I'm not weird about it at all!"
Before Ron could respond, however, a sudden voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
The words seemed to mark the end of their argument, and Ally was soon jumping up and down beside Ron, who looked pale under his freckles.
"We're going to Hogwarts, Ron!" she said delightedly. "We're going to Hogwarts! This is it, this is the start of a new adventure!"
‟𝖂elcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your houses.
"The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."
"You'll come visit me if I end up in Slytherin, won't you?" Ally whispered to Ron, in a last-ditch attempt to console herself.
"I won't have to," he replied in a heartbeat. "If you're going in Slytherin, I'm coming too."
She considered remarking on the impracticality of that statement, but then Professor McGonagall was speaking again.
"Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."
Ally wiped her sweaty palms on her robes, feeling her heart hammer in her chest, and thought about what Min-Jung had said — instrumentalist's fingers. If he had seen her heart in the palm of her hand, surely the Sorting Hat could see it at the Gryffindor table ( where Percy, Fred and George Weasley sat now, and where once her Moony had sat, with Prongs and Wormtail and Lily and even her father, who she liked to believe had not yet become the monster he was to be. )
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and Ron's smudged nose. On Ron's other side, Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.
A tense few minutes later, several people screamed. Ally jumped — about twenty pearly-white, transparent ghosts had just streamed in through the back wall, conversing amongst themselves.
"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance — "
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few people nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."
"Move along now," said a sharp voice, "the Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, and Professor McGonagall instructed the students to form a line and follow her.
Nerves jangling, Ally got into line behind the girl with bushy hair, a sandy-haired boy behind her. They walked out of the chamber and, through a pair of large oak double-doors, into the Great Hall.
The Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were seated. Golden plates and goblets glittered upon the linen-lined tables, and at the top of the Hall was another long table occupied by the teachers.
Dotted here and there, the ghosts shone misty silver. Heavenwards, the ceiling was draped with velvety black and sprinkled generously with twinkling stars.
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," whispered the girl with bushy hair. "I read about it in Hogwarts : A History."
"Did you really?" said Ally, surprised. She had not bothered to read Hogwarts : A History, mostly because Remus had been able to tell her all that she had wanted to know about the castle.
Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years and placed on top of it a pointed wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing.
It took a while, but the whole Hall burst into applause when the Sorting Hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables, and then stilled.
Professor McGonagall stepped forwards, holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted."
This was it, Ally thought wildly. This was the moment that would make or break the rest of her life.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line and put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes. A moment's pause —
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
The table on the right cheered and clapped to welcome Hannah.
"Black, Alcyone!"
A great deal of muttering swept the Hall, and Ally swayed on her feet — there had been one heartstopping second where one half of her body moved forwards, but the other remained planted firmly in place, so that she almost toppled over.
Moments that felt like months later, she was standing in front of the Sorting Hat, candlelight blazing on her skin. The gentle strokes of warmth calmed her enough to pull on the hat and collapse onto the stool, cheeks burning with colour.
"Oho," said a small voice in her ear. "Oh, what do we have here? My, my, the power. What would you give for it, little Black? What would you give to it? Hmm . . . an excellent answer, yes, you are a true Dumbledore."
But I didn't say anything? Ally thought, perplexed.
"Do not worry, child. I see not your mind, but the soul concealed within it. Ah, but wait, there's something else . . . no, no, I don't believe it! Oh, but then there is no need to ponder any longer! It can only be — GRYFFINDOR!"
The hat declared this last word for the entire Hall to hear, and Ally felt a numbing wave of relief wash over her. She took off the Sorting Hat, still shaking.
The Weasleys were cheering very loudly, and as soon as she was close enough, Percy pulled her down to sit beside him.
"Well done, Ally!" he said proudly, making her blush scarlet and hide her face into her long sleeve.
"Bones, Susan" became a Hufflepuff, and "Boot, Terry", a Ravenclaw. "Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw, too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the second new Gryffindor of the night. After "Bulstrode, Millicent!" was made a Slytherin, Professor McGonagall called, "Choi, Min-Jung!", and Ally whirled around.
Min-Jung, face pale and flickering in the glowing candlelight, staggered towards the stool and dropped the hat over his eyes.
Seconds ticked into minutes. Ally crossed her fingers under the table, and when five minutes had passed in quietude, several older students began to exchange wary whispers.
"Hatstall," Percy informed Ally importantly. "Those are very rare, you know, only once in fifty years — "
"SLYTHERIN!" announced the hat, after a grand total of five minutes and forty seconds. Min-Jung hopped off the stool, as the table in the far right erupted in applause.
"Wonder what other house it was trying to decide in between?" Percy wondered idly, as "Crabbe, Vincent" went into Slytherin as well.
"Ravenclaw, probably," Ally mumbled dejectedly. "He's so smart."
"Or Hufflepuff," George commented, watching him bound over to the spot beside the Bloody Baron, a megawatt smile tacked onto his cheeks.
"Finnigan, Seamus!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Granger, Hermione!"
The bushy-haired girl from earlier ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. The Sorting Hat considered her for four minutes before declaring, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Ally's attention began to wander once Hermione had joined the Gryffindor table. She had made it, she was at Hogwarts, and in Gryffindor. She felt her heart swell with happiness.
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Ally looked around once again to witness her blond cousin swaggering towards the stool, having his lifelong wish granted at once — the hat barely grazed the top of his head before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!"
There weren't many people left now. "Moon" . . . "Nott" . . . "Parkinson" . . . "Patil" and "Patil", a pair of twin girls . . . "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . . then, at last —
"Potter, Harry!"
As Harry stepped forwards, whispers broke out like little hissing fires all over the Hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
Ally sank a little lower in her seat.
Harry was gripping the edges of the stool very tightly. After a brief pause, the Hat decided on "GRYFFINDOR!" and a tsunami of cheers washed down the Gryffindor table.
Percy stood to shake Harry's hand vigorously, while Fred and George yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
Harry sat down tentatively across Ally, who sent an encouraging smile in his direction.
After "Turpin, Lisa" became a Ravenclaw, it was Ron's turn. He was pale green, but when the hat's brim opened it was only to shout, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Ron came over, swaying, and dropped beside Harry.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," Percy said pompously, as "Zabini, Blaise" was made a Slytherin. Zabini slinked over to the vacant spot by Min-Jung, and no sooner had he sat down than the latter was leaning over to engage him in conversation.
Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment, and took both Hat and stool away. Then, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, arms open wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all here.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."
Everybody clapped and cheered, and Ally let out a snort of laughter.
"Is he — a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.
"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Ally? They're your favourite, if I recall correctly."
"Oh, if you please," said Ally, taking the proffered dish of roast potatoes.
Across her, Harry's mouth had fallen open. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table. The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. He piled his plate with a bit of everything, and picked up his fork.
When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remnants of food faded from the plates, leaving them clearer than crystal. A moment later, the puddings appeared. Blocks of ice-cream, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, and —
"Pass the fudge," said Ally longingly, eyeing the plate of neatly-sliced chocolate pudding sitting by Ron's elbow. After all the years spent in his care, Remus had unsurprisingly managed to weave his love for anything chocolate into her heartstrings.
"All right, you don't have to look so desperate," said Ron, nose crinkling in disgust as he passed the dish over.
"You're one to talk," she retorted, eyeing the Yorkshire pudding Ron had been mercilessly devouring.
Meanwhile, the table talk around them had turned to family.
"I'm half and half," said Seamus Finnigan. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
The others laughed.
"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all Muggle for ages. Nothing happened until I was eight. Great-uncle Algie came round for tea and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my great-auntie Enid offered him a meringue, and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased."
As he wrapped up his story, Neville's gaze found Ally. There was some familiarity hidden behind those big grey eyes, like an itch under his skin that he couldn't quite scratch.
"Are you really Alcyone Black?" he asked curiously.
Ally swallowed back a bite of fudge, then made a face. "Please, don't call me that. I go by Ally."
"Oh, but isn't it the name of a star?" said Lavender Brown, intrigued. "Mum told me that all Blacks're named after stars and constellations, it's supposed to be old pure-blood tradition — "
"Well, I don't like it," Ally said unceremoniously. "There's nothing to like about being a Black, really."
There was an unpleasant silence, which Seamus took it upon himself to sever.
"Is it true that you're related to the Headmaster?" he said, squinting as though to pinpoint some resemblance between her and the ancient wizard.
"Oh, yes," said Ally, beaming, "he's my mam's dad."
"Wait, you mean to say," Hermione Granger interrupted, leaning closer, "that your mum is Ariana Dumbledore?"
Ally's smile twisted. "The second."
"But Ariana Dumbledore is a genius!" Hermione was facing her now, eyes rounded with reverence. "I've read all about her — her skill with a wand is a thing of mythology, and her role in the First Wizarding War — she's a legend in her time, just like her father."
"Isn't she just?" Percy speaks up gleefully. "Did you know that she's the youngest Head of the Auror Department? She was promoted when she was only thirty, and — "
"Ignore him," Ron muttered to Harry, "he's got a bit of a crush on Mrs Black."
Unfortunately, Percy heard him, and the back of his neck burned a violent shade of red. "I do not have a crush on Auror Black! I just — I know to appreciate talent when I see it — "
The other first-year Gryffindors began to laugh.
"Well, I'm sure Ally's dad will agree with you on that," said Dean Thomas, grinning. "What about him, ay?" he added to her.
Dad. Ally stopped — Dad. The name set in with the usual Arctic blizzard — Dad.
"Thomas, don't prod," Percy admonished, puffing up. "It's rude."
"No, it's OK, Perce," said Ally, her throat tightening uncomfortably "My father's — well, he's in prison, Thomas. Murder and treason."
What was once a pleasantly smooth conversation unsteadied, its surface rippling and morphing with words better left unsaid. Dean Thomas's lips parted in an 'O' of realisation, and he retreated wordlessly to his blueberry pie.
Ally lowered her eyes to her pudding, but found that the unexpected turn of events had stolen the last of her appetite. Setting her spoon down with a clink, she pushed her plate away, and folded her arms over the table.
She hardly noticed when Harry let out a cry of pain and reached for his scar, nor did she flinch when Dumbledore warned the students that the third-floor corridor was out of bounds. She did not even sing the school song ( which she liked to do in the tune of Chopin's Spring Waltz ) with the rest of the students.
"Ah, music," said Dumbledore, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Percy stood up dutifully, a hint of worry slipping through the cracks in his wall of indifference.
"You all right?" he said, straightening his horn-rimmed glasses.
"Fine," Ally answered flatly. Percy pursed his lips, already knowing he'd regret what he was about to do.
"You can hold my hand, if you'd like," he said, with as much dignity as one could fit into a statement of that sort.
She looked up at him, as though not daring to believe her ears. Percy smiled thinly.
"Welcome home, Ally."
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