Fic Friday, it would seem.
Argh, so, I said I was going to put those award thingies up this week, but real life got in the way and stuff took me longer than I expected. So, instead, here's a thing I wrote. A fic, if you will. It's pretty stupid. I hope you find it to your liking nonetheless.
Title: Roll
Rating: PG
Summary: The Marauders make their mark on the Sorting Ceremony. Hilarity ensues.
Warnings/notes: Crack. Technically AU. Borderline songfic. Stupid. For those wondering, this isn't the one where Remus dies.
Special props to a) nk_aoede for putting the idea in my head, and b) the half a bottle of wine that put me in a silly enough mood to write it down. (Yeah, so this is basically the grown-up, cynical equivalent of ZOMG SUGAR HIGH. Huh.)
September the first, 1975. The Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Sorting was about to begin.
The first-years - who looked even smaller and more meek than the year before, as was always the case - filed into the hall, bundled up in new robes and the pointed hats that were technically regulation but that nobody else bothered with after their first day. Wide-eyed, they gazed at the enchanted ceiling, the levitating candles, and the house banners, wondering which of them would, any moment, become their new home.
Some of the children seemed to be fizzing in anticipation, while others appeared terrified of the potential ordeal that awaited them. The older students looked on with nostalgia, remembering how they had felt back when they were new. The atmosphere was electric.
At the Gryffindor table, the high spirits of certain students were clashing with others' attempts at paying the occasion the respect it warranted.
"You'd better not be planning anything to ruin the Sorting!" hissed Lily Evans. "This is a very important occasion!"
"Us?" James Potter protested. "We wouldn't dream of it, Evans."
The Marauders' practical jokes were legendary. Last year, they had caused chaos by casting a charm across the entire school that stretched every animal within its walls to the proportions of a snake. Students' owls, cats, and toads had all become inexplicably long. The summer before that, they had placed a curse on Severus Snape that caused him to shoot harmless (but nonetheless irritating) jets of blue and white light from his mouth whenever he opened it. The hex had been easily removed by Madam Pomfrey, but had earned them a month's worth of detentions each.
"Anyway," James added. "If you were really worried, you'd go out with me. Then I'd be too busy going out with you to ever misbehave or even think about it."
Lily rolled her eyes and turned around on the bench to talk with Snape, who was lurking behind her.
"Hey, Snivellus," Sirius called across the table. "I herd you liek -" He was cut off by a silencing charm and another furious look from Lily. Snape stalked back to the Slytherin table.
At the front of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall was placing the battered, dirty Sorting Hat on the stool; it was time. The school held its breath, awaiting the new song the hat had spent all year composing.
There was a burst of drumrolls followed by a strange-sounding, electronic sort of music. The entire school - save those four boys at the Gryffindor table, who looked as if they knew a little too much - stared on in shock. The Sorting Hat's song was always, always acapella. It never sang to a backing track.
A tear in the brim of the hat opened wide and it started to sing.
We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and
SO DO I
The confusion in the room only grew. Normally the hat sang about things like the history of the school, the founders, the characteristics of the houses, how boring it was being a hat and so on. The relevance of these words was hard to see.
A long commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
And, if you ask me how I'm feeling...
"Everybody calm down! Please, calm down!" Professor McGonagall called over the din, but chaos reigned. The teachers, up at the staff table, looked as if they had no idea how to respond. Some students were crying, some were animatedly discussing what was happening and how to stop it, the new first-years just looked confused - and, at the Gryffindor table, those same four boys were openly roaring with laughter. Tears poured down their faces. Sirius laughed so hard he fell backwards off the bench. Remus Lupin had his head on the table and was shaking. Just along from them, Lily Evans looked like she couldn't decide whether she was more scandalised or furious.
Professor Dumbledore seemed content to let the scene unfold. He nodded along to the catchy tune.
Never gonna GIVE YOU UP
Never gonna LET YOU DOWN
Never gonna RUN AROUND
And desert you...
Eventually the song drew to a close, and the room was finally calm again. Professor Dumbledore stood, and any remaining whispering died off immediately.
"As amusing as this was, I think it is time for the Sorting proper," he said calmly, his eyes twinkling. "Professor McGonagall, if you would be so kind."
She nodded, and read the first new student's name from a long piece of parchment: "Aitken, Matthew!" A nondescript sort of boy stepped forward and sat on the three-legged stool.
"SLYTHERIN!" called the hat from atop his head. Little Matthew, looking pleased, trotted over to the Slytherin table, where he was met with applause.
"Banks, Antonia!"
"RAVENCLAW!" bellowed the hat. A profoundly relieved Antonia made her way to their table.
"Billericay, Richard!"
"ASTLEY!"
There was a sharp intake of breath and the tension in the Great Hall increased tenfold. The look of mild amusement on Dumbledore's face disappeared, to be replaced by one of suddenly-alert concern. Astley?
"Astley, I said!" called the hat. Richard Billericay stared out from beneath the wide brim, a look of terror on his face.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, and with a wave of his wand, conjured a fifth house table, complete with orange tablecloths with black and white striped trim. "For the time being, this will be the - er - Astley table, then. Professor McGonagall, please continue."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Headmaster, this is most irregular -"
"Please continue," Dumbledore repeated, not unkindly.
This pattern continued for the next half-hour, with students being sorted into the mysterious fifth category. By the end of the sorting, no less than ten new students ("Cummings, John-William"; "Eliotwater, Rose"; "Farcas, Scott"; "Filth, Danielle"; "Gossey, Bella-Lou"; "Kovacs, Walter"; "Melvin, Eric"; "Soho, Ruby" and "Walker, Johnnie", as well as poor little Richard Billericay) had been sorted into Astley house.
By this time, the Marauders were no longer laughing. The joke had worn off and, frankly, once the teachers were playing along with this sort of a prank, it was no longer any fun. In any case, the creation of a fifth house had not been part of the plan - the Sorting Hat seemed to have done that all by itself. Stronger magic than they were used to was asserting itself, and it was more than a little unsettling. The feast, which as always featured many different kinds of meat, was more than satisfactory - at least they had chicken - but a sense of worry hung over the middle of the Gryffindor table as the realisation of what they had done began to dawn on them.
Eventually the golden plates cleared, and Dumbledore concluded things with his usual speech about the year ahead. But as the benches finally scraped back and full-bellied, weary students began making their way towards the doors, he added over the noise, "Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew, if I could see you all in my office immediately."
~
The Marauders sat in a row in Professor Dumbledore's office, staring at their feet.
"I must congratulate the four of you on such a masterfully-executed prank," Dumbledore said, pacing back and forth before them, "especially given that Mr Rick Astley is yet to record what will one day be his most well-known hit. In fact, I'm not sure it's even been written yet. Nonetheless," here James started to speak, but was silenced by a look from Professor McGonagall, "nonetheless, the ramifications of your actions will be far-reaching. It seems that what the Sorting Hat decrees is magically binding. This bond is in every way unbreakable."
He paused to let this sink in.
"Yes," he went on, "from now on there will be five Hogwarts houses. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Astley."
There was silence. Was this a joke, too? Was Dumbledore's idea of punishment simply to run with the joke until it became unbearable? Apparently not. Dumbledore seemed deadly serious.
"Now, Professor McGonagall was in favour of simply putting you all in detention for the remainder of the school year," he went on. McGonagall's mouth twitched slightly. "However, I suspect that this course of action would do little to deter you from any future attempts at sabotage. So I think, perhaps, rather than being punished, you will all be given the opportunity to learn some responsibility. Because, of course, this newly-created house will require prefects."
"You mean... us?" Peter looked up, wide-eyed, suddenly seeming younger than his 15 years.
"Well, who else? As we have the four of you to thank for this turn of events, and it would hardly be fair to expect anyone else to pick up the reins. No, I think this is the right solution."
He sat behind his desk, smiling.
"As prefects, your duties will be many. You will be required never to give these up, nor let the school down. Nor will you be allowed to run around. Saying goodbye or any kind of lying is, naturally, out of the question."
"Professor," mumbled Remus Lupin. "I'm... I'm supposed to be Gryffindor prefect this year."
"Of course," Dumbledore said. "It will take some... rearranging, but it can be dealt with. From now on, your loyalties must lie with Astley house. You are dismissed."
As the four ex-Gryffindor boys trooped out of the headmaster's office, nobody spoke. None of them knew what to say. It looked as if they were in for an interesting year.
EPILOGUE
The following June, thanks to a spectacular Quidditch victory, Astley won the house cup with over 9000 points.
~ Fin ~
PS: brb, going away for the weekend. Like, leaving in about 15 minutes, so I won't be able to reply to comments etc until I'm near an Interwebz again. Already suffering withdrawal. *twitch*
Title: Roll
Rating: PG
Summary: The Marauders make their mark on the Sorting Ceremony. Hilarity ensues.
Warnings/notes: Crack. Technically AU. Borderline songfic. Stupid. For those wondering, this isn't the one where Remus dies.
Special props to a) nk_aoede for putting the idea in my head, and b) the half a bottle of wine that put me in a silly enough mood to write it down. (Yeah, so this is basically the grown-up, cynical equivalent of ZOMG SUGAR HIGH. Huh.)
September the first, 1975. The Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Sorting was about to begin.
The first-years - who looked even smaller and more meek than the year before, as was always the case - filed into the hall, bundled up in new robes and the pointed hats that were technically regulation but that nobody else bothered with after their first day. Wide-eyed, they gazed at the enchanted ceiling, the levitating candles, and the house banners, wondering which of them would, any moment, become their new home.
Some of the children seemed to be fizzing in anticipation, while others appeared terrified of the potential ordeal that awaited them. The older students looked on with nostalgia, remembering how they had felt back when they were new. The atmosphere was electric.
At the Gryffindor table, the high spirits of certain students were clashing with others' attempts at paying the occasion the respect it warranted.
"You'd better not be planning anything to ruin the Sorting!" hissed Lily Evans. "This is a very important occasion!"
"Us?" James Potter protested. "We wouldn't dream of it, Evans."
The Marauders' practical jokes were legendary. Last year, they had caused chaos by casting a charm across the entire school that stretched every animal within its walls to the proportions of a snake. Students' owls, cats, and toads had all become inexplicably long. The summer before that, they had placed a curse on Severus Snape that caused him to shoot harmless (but nonetheless irritating) jets of blue and white light from his mouth whenever he opened it. The hex had been easily removed by Madam Pomfrey, but had earned them a month's worth of detentions each.
"Anyway," James added. "If you were really worried, you'd go out with me. Then I'd be too busy going out with you to ever misbehave or even think about it."
Lily rolled her eyes and turned around on the bench to talk with Snape, who was lurking behind her.
"Hey, Snivellus," Sirius called across the table. "I herd you liek -" He was cut off by a silencing charm and another furious look from Lily. Snape stalked back to the Slytherin table.
At the front of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall was placing the battered, dirty Sorting Hat on the stool; it was time. The school held its breath, awaiting the new song the hat had spent all year composing.
There was a burst of drumrolls followed by a strange-sounding, electronic sort of music. The entire school - save those four boys at the Gryffindor table, who looked as if they knew a little too much - stared on in shock. The Sorting Hat's song was always, always acapella. It never sang to a backing track.
A tear in the brim of the hat opened wide and it started to sing.
We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and
SO DO I
The confusion in the room only grew. Normally the hat sang about things like the history of the school, the founders, the characteristics of the houses, how boring it was being a hat and so on. The relevance of these words was hard to see.
A long commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
And, if you ask me how I'm feeling...
"Everybody calm down! Please, calm down!" Professor McGonagall called over the din, but chaos reigned. The teachers, up at the staff table, looked as if they had no idea how to respond. Some students were crying, some were animatedly discussing what was happening and how to stop it, the new first-years just looked confused - and, at the Gryffindor table, those same four boys were openly roaring with laughter. Tears poured down their faces. Sirius laughed so hard he fell backwards off the bench. Remus Lupin had his head on the table and was shaking. Just along from them, Lily Evans looked like she couldn't decide whether she was more scandalised or furious.
Professor Dumbledore seemed content to let the scene unfold. He nodded along to the catchy tune.
Never gonna GIVE YOU UP
Never gonna LET YOU DOWN
Never gonna RUN AROUND
And desert you...
Eventually the song drew to a close, and the room was finally calm again. Professor Dumbledore stood, and any remaining whispering died off immediately.
"As amusing as this was, I think it is time for the Sorting proper," he said calmly, his eyes twinkling. "Professor McGonagall, if you would be so kind."
She nodded, and read the first new student's name from a long piece of parchment: "Aitken, Matthew!" A nondescript sort of boy stepped forward and sat on the three-legged stool.
"SLYTHERIN!" called the hat from atop his head. Little Matthew, looking pleased, trotted over to the Slytherin table, where he was met with applause.
"Banks, Antonia!"
"RAVENCLAW!" bellowed the hat. A profoundly relieved Antonia made her way to their table.
"Billericay, Richard!"
"ASTLEY!"
There was a sharp intake of breath and the tension in the Great Hall increased tenfold. The look of mild amusement on Dumbledore's face disappeared, to be replaced by one of suddenly-alert concern. Astley?
"Astley, I said!" called the hat. Richard Billericay stared out from beneath the wide brim, a look of terror on his face.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, and with a wave of his wand, conjured a fifth house table, complete with orange tablecloths with black and white striped trim. "For the time being, this will be the - er - Astley table, then. Professor McGonagall, please continue."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Headmaster, this is most irregular -"
"Please continue," Dumbledore repeated, not unkindly.
This pattern continued for the next half-hour, with students being sorted into the mysterious fifth category. By the end of the sorting, no less than ten new students ("Cummings, John-William"; "Eliotwater, Rose"; "Farcas, Scott"; "Filth, Danielle"; "Gossey, Bella-Lou"; "Kovacs, Walter"; "Melvin, Eric"; "Soho, Ruby" and "Walker, Johnnie", as well as poor little Richard Billericay) had been sorted into Astley house.
By this time, the Marauders were no longer laughing. The joke had worn off and, frankly, once the teachers were playing along with this sort of a prank, it was no longer any fun. In any case, the creation of a fifth house had not been part of the plan - the Sorting Hat seemed to have done that all by itself. Stronger magic than they were used to was asserting itself, and it was more than a little unsettling. The feast, which as always featured many different kinds of meat, was more than satisfactory - at least they had chicken - but a sense of worry hung over the middle of the Gryffindor table as the realisation of what they had done began to dawn on them.
Eventually the golden plates cleared, and Dumbledore concluded things with his usual speech about the year ahead. But as the benches finally scraped back and full-bellied, weary students began making their way towards the doors, he added over the noise, "Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew, if I could see you all in my office immediately."
~
The Marauders sat in a row in Professor Dumbledore's office, staring at their feet.
"I must congratulate the four of you on such a masterfully-executed prank," Dumbledore said, pacing back and forth before them, "especially given that Mr Rick Astley is yet to record what will one day be his most well-known hit. In fact, I'm not sure it's even been written yet. Nonetheless," here James started to speak, but was silenced by a look from Professor McGonagall, "nonetheless, the ramifications of your actions will be far-reaching. It seems that what the Sorting Hat decrees is magically binding. This bond is in every way unbreakable."
He paused to let this sink in.
"Yes," he went on, "from now on there will be five Hogwarts houses. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Astley."
There was silence. Was this a joke, too? Was Dumbledore's idea of punishment simply to run with the joke until it became unbearable? Apparently not. Dumbledore seemed deadly serious.
"Now, Professor McGonagall was in favour of simply putting you all in detention for the remainder of the school year," he went on. McGonagall's mouth twitched slightly. "However, I suspect that this course of action would do little to deter you from any future attempts at sabotage. So I think, perhaps, rather than being punished, you will all be given the opportunity to learn some responsibility. Because, of course, this newly-created house will require prefects."
"You mean... us?" Peter looked up, wide-eyed, suddenly seeming younger than his 15 years.
"Well, who else? As we have the four of you to thank for this turn of events, and it would hardly be fair to expect anyone else to pick up the reins. No, I think this is the right solution."
He sat behind his desk, smiling.
"As prefects, your duties will be many. You will be required never to give these up, nor let the school down. Nor will you be allowed to run around. Saying goodbye or any kind of lying is, naturally, out of the question."
"Professor," mumbled Remus Lupin. "I'm... I'm supposed to be Gryffindor prefect this year."
"Of course," Dumbledore said. "It will take some... rearranging, but it can be dealt with. From now on, your loyalties must lie with Astley house. You are dismissed."
As the four ex-Gryffindor boys trooped out of the headmaster's office, nobody spoke. None of them knew what to say. It looked as if they were in for an interesting year.
EPILOGUE
The following June, thanks to a spectacular Quidditch victory, Astley won the house cup with over 9000 points.
~ Fin ~
PS: brb, going away for the weekend. Like, leaving in about 15 minutes, so I won't be able to reply to comments etc until I'm near an Interwebz again. Already suffering withdrawal. *twitch*