Fic: Sorted
Title: Sorted
Fandom: Doctor Who/Harry Potter
Characters: Eighth Doctor, Fitz
Rating: PG (mild-ish language)
Word Count: 1,109
Summary: Fitz and the Doctor visit Hogwarts.
This is pure, unadulterated crack inspired by 4you_blue_jway (as most insane ideas are). She absolutely insisted I write something where Eight was a Hufflepuff, so yeah. Go yell at her if you must. Uh, also a side note: I've never read any of the Faction Paradox stuff (spoilers! part of this fic deals with that) so I'm sure this could have been better written by someone with way more skillz (and understanding of CRAZY TIMELINES, WOOO~).
Anyway. Uh, enjoy. I guess.
UNBETA'D BECAUSE IDGAF. IT'S CRACK, OKAY. DEAL.
Fitz had long since given up trying to make sense of where they were. Deciding his breath was better saved for trying to keep pace with the Doctor (and giving the briefest consideration to quitting smoking in the process), he took in what he could of their surroundings.
The castle itself was remarkable both inside and out if only for its sheer size; everything else about it seemed to be plucked right out of medieval Europe. Fitz had, in fact, been convinced that was exactly where they were until the staircase they were climbing began to move. He clung to the banister for dear life; the Doctor just giggled.
“Doc!”
The Doctor skipped a step as he ascended, the staircase settling against its new landing with the deep grind of stone against stone.
“Not to worry, not to worry. We’ll just take the long way ‘round.”
The ‘long way’ was turning out to be much longer than Fitz cared for, and as they rounded yet another corridor he said as much, though under his breath. It had been a long enough walk across the grounds to the castle itself, and now they had made their way through what must’ve been miles of corridor. This place was almost as big as the bloody TARDIS.
“Remind me,” he panted when the Doctor paused in front of the statue of a gargoyle, “why we couldn’t just materialize inside the castle?”
The Doctor silenced him with a protracted shhhh, his hand waving blindly in Fitz’ general direction.
“Now let’s see… Lemon drop!” The Doctor eyed the statue expectantly. Fitz stared hard at him.
“What?”
“Nonono, perhaps…ah. Curly Wurly!” Again nothing happened, though the Doctor didn’t seem terribly put out. He rested his chin in his palm, wrapping his free arm around his chest. Fitz sunk against the stone wall opposite with a sigh.
“Marzipan! Hmm. Turkish delight? Montelimar! Ginger sling!”
“Jelly baby?” Fitz piped up, thinking he’d caught on to some kind of game. The Doctor rewarded him briefly with a dazzling smile before whirling back to the gargoyle, which stubbornly continued to be just a statue. Though Fitz couldn’t see his pout, it was evident in his voice.
“Really? No? Well it was a good try, Fitz.”
Fitz was on the verge of cheekily suggesting he try ‘open sesame’ when the Doctor suddenly bounced on his heels.
“Savoy truffle!”
Wonder of wonders (they never ceased with the Doctor), the gargoyle began to move with a groan, spinning until it revealed a spiral staircase. The Doctor squeezed his way through as soon as there was enough room for him to pass. Fitz followed, hoping wherever they were headed had chairs.
The door at the top of the staircase was opened with a quick whirr of the sonic screwdriver, revealing a room that Fitz thought could have doubled for the Doctor’s own study, if only because he couldn’t identify half the contents. The Doc seemed at home, hopping from desk to bookcase to table, touching everything with a look of familiar wonder.
“Albus!” the Doctor called cheerfully, not seeming the least bit disappointed when no one answered.
Fitz contemplated the repercussions of lighting a fag.
“I suppose we’ll just have to wait,” the Doctor told him, face hovering close over the shimmering surface of a stone basin marked with runes.
Well if they were going to be here a while, he was finding some place to park his arse, even if it was the stone floor. But he was spared that fate - a plush high-backed chair beckoned to him from behind the room’s centrepiece, a monstrous desk.
“Fitz!” He was on the verge of flopping down in the chair when the Doctor barked at him, bounding over to snatch something off the chair from underneath him. Fitz yelped; the Doctor ignored him, holding something ragged and black to his chest protectively. “You almost sat on the Sorting Hat!”
Fitz squinted at the object in question; calling it a hat was kind, he thought - it looked like it was going to fall apart any second. The Doc was stroking it like a wounded puppy, looking scandalized.
“It’s a hat.”
The Doctor shook his head dolefully. “Fitzfitzfitzfitzfitz. This is The. Sorting. Hat. A little respect, please!”
“The what?” But the Doctor had already plunked the hat down over his curls, his eyes disappearing under the wide brim. Only his boyish smile was visible.
Fitz shuffled his feet. The seconds ticked by, feeling more like minutes; surely the Doc wouldn’t have done anything dangerous. Intentionally. He watched the Doctor’s vacant smile with growing wariness.
“I knew it!”
Fitz jumped. The Doctor pulled off the Sorting Hat, spinning it in his hands.
“Still a Hufflepuff, Fitz. Through and through.”
“A what?” If he sounded irritable, it was only because this entire adventure was beginning to wear on his nerves.
“A Hufflepuff, Fitz,” the Doctor pressed in his best do-pay-attention tone. “Once a Hufflepuff, always a Hufflepuff. I’m very good at finding things, you know.”
Well that was debatable. “But-”
“It was my house, Fitz. Here - why don’t you try?”
“What, like them snooty prep schools? No thanks, Doc, I-” but the Doctor had already dropped the hat on to his head. The world went black, and all sound vanished.
Hmm.
Fitz started, whipping his head around, though there was nothing to see. A deep rolling voice filled his head.
Very interesting. I see the potential for great things in you. And bravery in there, somewhere. Gryffindor!
Fitz stilled, not sure whether this should please him or not.
Ah, but what’s this? I see a ruthlessness, a passion for destruction. A thirst for vengeance.
Oh bollocks. Not this Faction Paradox shite again.
Slytherin, my boy! But- there is a sense of duty, loyalty too. You are a Hufflepuff!
“Can I be all three at once?” Fitz wondered aloud.
No! the Hat insisted. You are a Gryffindor. Hufflepuff!
Fitz’s head was growing rather warm.
SLYTHERIN!
“Ah!” Fitz barked. It felt like his entire skull was on fire. In a moment the world was in focus again; the Doctor had thrown the Sorting Hat on the floor and was currently jumping on it in an attempt to smother the flames that had sprung up from under the brim. So much for his affection for the thing.
“It went…” Fitz panted, pointing at the hat accusingly, “bonkers on me.” He gave the Doctor his best this-isn’t-my-fault look, rubbing at his hair to make sure it was all still there.
The Doctor eyed the smoldering hat glumly.
“What a shame. Dumbledore will have my wand for this."
Fandom: Doctor Who/Harry Potter
Characters: Eighth Doctor, Fitz
Rating: PG (mild-ish language)
Word Count: 1,109
Summary: Fitz and the Doctor visit Hogwarts.
This is pure, unadulterated crack inspired by 4you_blue_jway (as most insane ideas are). She absolutely insisted I write something where Eight was a Hufflepuff, so yeah. Go yell at her if you must. Uh, also a side note: I've never read any of the Faction Paradox stuff (spoilers! part of this fic deals with that) so I'm sure this could have been better written by someone with way more skillz (and understanding of CRAZY TIMELINES, WOOO~).
Anyway. Uh, enjoy. I guess.
UNBETA'D BECAUSE IDGAF. IT'S CRACK, OKAY. DEAL.
Fitz had long since given up trying to make sense of where they were. Deciding his breath was better saved for trying to keep pace with the Doctor (and giving the briefest consideration to quitting smoking in the process), he took in what he could of their surroundings.
The castle itself was remarkable both inside and out if only for its sheer size; everything else about it seemed to be plucked right out of medieval Europe. Fitz had, in fact, been convinced that was exactly where they were until the staircase they were climbing began to move. He clung to the banister for dear life; the Doctor just giggled.
“Doc!”
The Doctor skipped a step as he ascended, the staircase settling against its new landing with the deep grind of stone against stone.
“Not to worry, not to worry. We’ll just take the long way ‘round.”
The ‘long way’ was turning out to be much longer than Fitz cared for, and as they rounded yet another corridor he said as much, though under his breath. It had been a long enough walk across the grounds to the castle itself, and now they had made their way through what must’ve been miles of corridor. This place was almost as big as the bloody TARDIS.
“Remind me,” he panted when the Doctor paused in front of the statue of a gargoyle, “why we couldn’t just materialize inside the castle?”
The Doctor silenced him with a protracted shhhh, his hand waving blindly in Fitz’ general direction.
“Now let’s see… Lemon drop!” The Doctor eyed the statue expectantly. Fitz stared hard at him.
“What?”
“Nonono, perhaps…ah. Curly Wurly!” Again nothing happened, though the Doctor didn’t seem terribly put out. He rested his chin in his palm, wrapping his free arm around his chest. Fitz sunk against the stone wall opposite with a sigh.
“Marzipan! Hmm. Turkish delight? Montelimar! Ginger sling!”
“Jelly baby?” Fitz piped up, thinking he’d caught on to some kind of game. The Doctor rewarded him briefly with a dazzling smile before whirling back to the gargoyle, which stubbornly continued to be just a statue. Though Fitz couldn’t see his pout, it was evident in his voice.
“Really? No? Well it was a good try, Fitz.”
Fitz was on the verge of cheekily suggesting he try ‘open sesame’ when the Doctor suddenly bounced on his heels.
“Savoy truffle!”
Wonder of wonders (they never ceased with the Doctor), the gargoyle began to move with a groan, spinning until it revealed a spiral staircase. The Doctor squeezed his way through as soon as there was enough room for him to pass. Fitz followed, hoping wherever they were headed had chairs.
The door at the top of the staircase was opened with a quick whirr of the sonic screwdriver, revealing a room that Fitz thought could have doubled for the Doctor’s own study, if only because he couldn’t identify half the contents. The Doc seemed at home, hopping from desk to bookcase to table, touching everything with a look of familiar wonder.
“Albus!” the Doctor called cheerfully, not seeming the least bit disappointed when no one answered.
Fitz contemplated the repercussions of lighting a fag.
“I suppose we’ll just have to wait,” the Doctor told him, face hovering close over the shimmering surface of a stone basin marked with runes.
Well if they were going to be here a while, he was finding some place to park his arse, even if it was the stone floor. But he was spared that fate - a plush high-backed chair beckoned to him from behind the room’s centrepiece, a monstrous desk.
“Fitz!” He was on the verge of flopping down in the chair when the Doctor barked at him, bounding over to snatch something off the chair from underneath him. Fitz yelped; the Doctor ignored him, holding something ragged and black to his chest protectively. “You almost sat on the Sorting Hat!”
Fitz squinted at the object in question; calling it a hat was kind, he thought - it looked like it was going to fall apart any second. The Doc was stroking it like a wounded puppy, looking scandalized.
“It’s a hat.”
The Doctor shook his head dolefully. “Fitzfitzfitzfitzfitz. This is The. Sorting. Hat. A little respect, please!”
“The what?” But the Doctor had already plunked the hat down over his curls, his eyes disappearing under the wide brim. Only his boyish smile was visible.
Fitz shuffled his feet. The seconds ticked by, feeling more like minutes; surely the Doc wouldn’t have done anything dangerous. Intentionally. He watched the Doctor’s vacant smile with growing wariness.
“I knew it!”
Fitz jumped. The Doctor pulled off the Sorting Hat, spinning it in his hands.
“Still a Hufflepuff, Fitz. Through and through.”
“A what?” If he sounded irritable, it was only because this entire adventure was beginning to wear on his nerves.
“A Hufflepuff, Fitz,” the Doctor pressed in his best do-pay-attention tone. “Once a Hufflepuff, always a Hufflepuff. I’m very good at finding things, you know.”
Well that was debatable. “But-”
“It was my house, Fitz. Here - why don’t you try?”
“What, like them snooty prep schools? No thanks, Doc, I-” but the Doctor had already dropped the hat on to his head. The world went black, and all sound vanished.
Hmm.
Fitz started, whipping his head around, though there was nothing to see. A deep rolling voice filled his head.
Very interesting. I see the potential for great things in you. And bravery in there, somewhere. Gryffindor!
Fitz stilled, not sure whether this should please him or not.
Ah, but what’s this? I see a ruthlessness, a passion for destruction. A thirst for vengeance.
Oh bollocks. Not this Faction Paradox shite again.
Slytherin, my boy! But- there is a sense of duty, loyalty too. You are a Hufflepuff!
“Can I be all three at once?” Fitz wondered aloud.
No! the Hat insisted. You are a Gryffindor. Hufflepuff!
Fitz’s head was growing rather warm.
SLYTHERIN!
“Ah!” Fitz barked. It felt like his entire skull was on fire. In a moment the world was in focus again; the Doctor had thrown the Sorting Hat on the floor and was currently jumping on it in an attempt to smother the flames that had sprung up from under the brim. So much for his affection for the thing.
“It went…” Fitz panted, pointing at the hat accusingly, “bonkers on me.” He gave the Doctor his best this-isn’t-my-fault look, rubbing at his hair to make sure it was all still there.
The Doctor eyed the smoldering hat glumly.
“What a shame. Dumbledore will have my wand for this."