Chapter Text
“Harry Potter”
Dahlia was shaking as she sat on the stool and awaited her placement. She didn’t much care for her old name - which was why she would always call herself Dahlia in her head. Unfortunately, people in the wizarding world were a tad bit more attached to it than she was, not that she would ask to be called Dahlia regardless. The Dursleys’ reactions to her name and gender change had been to treat her like some sort of monster, and she had no reason to believe that anyone here would think differently.
Granted, she already had more friends than she ever did with the Dursleys, and people in general were… kinder(?) to her so far. She didn’t know much about why they were though, she definitely didn’t feel like the hero they saw her as. From what she could tell, some dark wizard that no one would say the name of died while trying to kill her. From the story, she figured that her parents had done something that led them to dying in the process of killing the apparently nameless wizard.
The way Ron treated her, one could be forgiven for thinking that she had saved his life personally, but he was kind enough to treat her like a person most of the time (which at this point was something she refused to expect from anyone). Hermione, thankfully, didn’t seem to care about her fame. Like Dahlia, she seemed to be intent on spending the entire ride to Hogwarts reading through her textbooks, although, unlike Dahlia, she was clearly not reading them for the first time. Eventually Ron got them both talking - or in Dahlia’s case, nonverbally agreeing with whatever the other two said - for most of the trip from platform 9 and ¾. She was already terrified of doing something to anger her new friends, as they had already given her some odd looks during their conversation on the train. She had no idea what she was doing wrong, but she was scared they were already on the cusp of abandoning her.
She was pulled from her thoughts of her friends by the ratty old sorting hat being placed on her head. “You know, I’ve been looking forward to sorting you, young lady” Said a voice in her head that she assumed was the hat.
It knew she was a girl. How did it know she was a girl? Right, it was in her head, fuck she was stupid. She noticed that her breathing was picking up, it would probably get loud if she cried. Loud was bad. She had to do something about this. She quickly resorted to what she always did when she was scared: lying. “I’m not a girl, and you’re delusional if you think I am one” She thought back.
“Right…” the hat responded “Well… Harry. You’ve been through much hardship in your life, but you’ve always persevered. I could see you doing great things in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin.”
“Why not Gryffindor?” she pouted (or as much as you can pout when speaking telepathically) “I heard that my parents were Gryffindors and everyone loved them, besides, Hermione is already there!”.
“You are many things Mr. Potter, but brave is not one of them. Not to mention, you seem to have no desire to be in the spotlight. While you certainly have a tendency to put others above yourself, it appears that you would do much better with that trait in Hufflepuff. ”
Dahlia couldn’t really argue with that, she knew she was a coward, but she had to survive somehow. She had given up on ‘being a person’ a while ago, she was nothing more than a cornered animal about 90 percent of the time. A cornered animal wasn’t always going to fight above the belt, and she was okay with that. Even if it just reinforced in her mind that she was trash; too weak to fight her battles on her own, resorting to lying and groveling to survive. “Does that mean you’re putting me in Hufflepuff? I’m really okay with any house but Slytherin.”
“I don’t know if you have quite got it in you to give like the ‘puffs do, so I would be hesitant to place you with them now. Under different circumstances, you would be a shoe-in for the badgers, but you aren’t in any condition to be with them just yet. Your heart has the capacity for their kind of love, but you wouldn’t be able to keep up with your peers. Ah, and you did have quite the bad first impression to Slytherin didn’t you? That Malfoy boy doesn’t represent the whole house you know? You could do great things in Slytherin, you know. That special kind of love you show would fit in nicely with our snakes, and if things go well, you might learn things about yourself you never would have known otherwise.”
Hmm. That was certainly tempting, and the hat was right, she wasn’t really a good fit for any house except for Slytherin. She didn’t think she was particularly brave, or compassionate, or smart, but she was at least a little cunning (if you counted lying and cheating as cunning). “If you think I would be a good Slytherin, why haven’t you just sorted me immediately like everyone else?”
“We’re bound to get a hatstall at least once a year, so I wouldn’t worry about that. As for our conversation, I figured I would give you the choice between the three. I said you could do great things in Slytherin, but some bad could come from it too. Namely, your friend, Ron. He didn’t seem to like Slytherins much. Among other reasons, Ravenclaw could be safer.”
Safer. That was an important word. She didn’t know much about any of the houses other than what Ron had told her, but if they were safe then it didn’t really matter what qualities your average Ravenclaw possessed. Then again, this could be an opportunity for her to start making choices on her own. She was finally free from the Dursleys (save for summer hols), and this could be the start of something new for her.
She deliberated on it for a while longer before coming to a conclusion “Slytherin. I think. I mean Ron will probably forgive me, and I want to succeed in something for once. I’d really like to start living rather than just surviving.” She thought with a smile.
“Perhaps you’re braver than I thought. Very well then, good luck in… SLYTHERIN”
The last word rang out into the hall as the hat was lifted off her head, quieting the murmurs that she hadn’t noticed until then. Unlike with her classmates, there was no fanfare, no clapping or cheers. There was just silence as the entire hall just stared at her. With a frightful glance around her, she saw that the teachers were staring too. There was the heavy breathing again. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You can’t let them hate you. What the hell do I say? Why are they all staring at me? She turned to the professor that had been handling the hat - she remembered her name was Professor Mcgonagall - and asked “D-did I d-do-do something-g wrong?”. She couldn’t quite keep the quiver out of her voice when she spoke, and she already felt her vision starting to blur. Of course you did something wrong you idiot.
Professor Mcgonagall blinked, seemingly torn from her stupor. Briefly looking from her to the rest of the hall - now they were talking in conspiratorial whispers - then looked back at her. Her expression quickly turned to one of fury.
Oh. The Dursleys had it right, she was a monster. She was a monster and she was about to get what was coming to her. As soon as she saw the look the professor gave her, she did what she always did, what she would always do. She unfocused her eyes - the world was already too blurry to see much anyway - she let her hands fall rigidly to her sides, and she let the ringing in her ears grow as loud as it could. After that, she was ready. She didn’t know what wizard punishments were, but she thought they might involve hurting herself in some way if they were anything like Aunt Petunia’s. Just in case, she listened to what the professor started yelling. “You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves! A thirteen year old boy, shamed by the whole school on his first day! You are to welcome him as you would any student, regardless of what house you think he should be in!” She then turned to face Dahlia “Dearie, everything is okay, go sit with your house.”
To a smattering of applause Dahlia shakily made her way to her house's table, finding a seat near the end that gave the rest of the house a wide enough berth. She wiped her face for any tears that may have escaped (thankfully, there were none), and tried to make herself small. Being brave was stupid, now everyone hated her. She wished that she knew where they wanted her to end up, she just wanted to make them all happy… why could she never make anyone happy?
She was pulled from her thoughts by the girl sitting next to her. “That was quite the hatstall, and erm… quite the… reaction.” Dahlia thought the girl was very pretty, she had a cute, squashed nose, blonde hair, and dark brown eyes. “Don’t take it the wrong way though, I just don’t think anyone expected you to be a Slytehrin”.
Dahlia blinked away the last of her unshed tears and responded quietly “I’m sorry”.
The pretty girl looked at her quizzically “for what?”.
“I-I don’t really know, but if they all reacted that way, then I must have done something bad…”
“I’m sure it was just a surprise. I mean, you’re the Boy-Who-Lived! Everyone assumed you’d be a Gryffindor for sure, but even if not a Gryffindor, nobody expected you to be Slytherin!”
“I- erm.. Maybe.” Dahlia quickly pretended to be very interested in the Headmaster, who was speaking now that the sorting was done (Ron had been sorted into Gryffindor, hopefully they could still be friends).
“Ahem — just a few more words before we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”
The headmaster’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of two identical looking boys at the Gryffindor table. Dahlia was suddenly very glad that she wasn’t in a house that willingly went into a place called ‘The Forbidden Forest’.
“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”
This was going to be a long year. That is, if she made it that long.