Chapter Text
Raphael Anthony Crawley was a pureblood boy from a well-positioned household. His father worked at the ministry; his mother was an Auror. They were good people; they had tried to raise their son without prejudices. When his Hogwarts letter came he was full of questions, and his parents decided it was better for him to not know which houses they had been in. They believed that if they didn’t tell their son about the Hogwarts houses he would have an open mind and wouldn’t have any preconceptions about them.
They did a good job raising young Raphael. He was a curious boy, always asking questions. “Why does water slide off a duck’s back? Do ducks have ears? How can they understand each other if they don’t have ears?” From the moment he started talking they knew which house he was going to be in. They also knew that when he finally got to Hogwarts they were going to continually receive letters from his teachers telling them about the trouble he was getting into. But they were not prepared for the heartbreaking letters they received in Crawley’s sixth and seventh years. Neither of them were prepared for his relationship with him.
Him was Lucifer Morningstar. Lucifer Morningstar was the only son of the Morningstar family. His father was rich and well-known in the Ministry, and also for being an anti-muggle politician. Everybody knew the Morningstar father and son, even Crawley. All pureblood families knew each other. The Crawley s were n’t as important as the Morningstar s , but family importance doesn’t stop kids from being friends. Lucifer was a child with bright lilac eyes and light brown hair; he walked with the posture of a prince and cursed with the vocabulary of a sailor. His father, and everybody around him, had big expectations for him. The first was to be a Slytherin.
Lucifer Morningstar recognized the redheaded kid in the train; Mrs. Crawley had eaten at the Morningstar house a few times and twice she had brought her son. The first time Crawley had played with him, Lucifer decided that when they were in Hogwarts they were going to be friends. Lucifer needed a partner in crime at his house one day to move the chairs around and play a prank on his father, and Crawley had helped him. Crawley had proven to be a great accomplice that day.
“You are going to be my best friend.” As soon as Lucifer had seen Crawley on the train he grabbed him by the arm. Crawley was perfectly okay with it . Several hours in the train were enough for the two boys to become firm friends. Lucifer explained to Crawley the Hogwarts houses; he found it unbelievable that the other kid didn’t know anything about them. Crawley had so many questions, and Lucifer had answers to all of them.
“I’m going to be in S lytherin, the best one. Slytherin is the coolest house; it represents ambition, power and determination.” You couldn’t exactly choose which house to be in, but Lucifer of course was going to be a S lytherin. “Gryffindor is for dummies ; they act before thinking. And Hufflepuff is for the weak, for people without ambition,” Lucifer had explained and Crawley nodded.
“Slytherin is the best house, but my father always said that we, the Sl ytherin students, should respect the Ravenclaw house. We never know when their intelligence will come in handy.” Crawley was fascinated with Lucifer and all the things he knew. Lucifer had been studying magic before even he could walk straight. Crawley admired him, and Lucifer loved it. Crawley suddenly wanted to be a S lytherin.
In the Great Hall Lucifer went before him; the Sorting Hat didn’t need to sit on his head for more than a few seconds and it shouted “Slytherin” in a flash. The S lytherin table was already cheering before the hat had the opportunity to shout.
Crawley went next. “I want to be in S lytherin,” he whispered to the hat.
“Hmmm? Slytherin you say?” the Hat whispered back. “No, kid. You have good qualities: curiosity, imagination, individuality; you would be a very good R avenclaw. If you don’t want to, you also have the heart of a Hufflepuff. You could be a good H ufflepuff, yes, an odd one, but a good one at least.”
“No, please don’t put me in Hufflepuff. I want to be a Slytherin. Please.”
“Look kid, I’m doing you a favour not putting you in Slytherin.” The Sorting Hat had the patience and personality of an old man who didn’t like children. “You are not going to be happy there. If you want to choose your house, then choose: Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? Well, speak, what are you going to be?”
“Ravenclaw,” Crawley whispered, defeated. “RAVENCLAW!” the Sorting Hat shouted. Everyone was incredulous at how much time the hat took to choose his house.
“That stupid hat. I mean, look at my surname “Crawley” like a crawling snake. I should have been in Slytherin.” Crawley was throwing rocks at the lake with Lucifer, both of them were irritated.
“What exactly did it say?”
“It said that I could be a Slytherin but I would be better in Ravenclaw.” Of course Crawley lied; he would never tell Lucifer about the Hufflepuff part; it was embarrassing.
“Well my father always said that every Slytherin who respects himself needs a good Ravenclaw friend. So now you are officially my best friend.” Crawley smiled “And also, you are right. Your name is perfect for a snake. If you can’t be an official one, you will be one by name. From this day forward I will call you Crawley, honou rary member of the Slytherin House.”
“Cool.”
During his first year Crawley wore the Ravenclaw uniform, used the Ravenclaw Common Room and took his classes with Ravenclaw students, like any other Ravenclaw student. But he was hanging out with Lucifer every day, and eating at the Slytherin table every day as well.
By second year things became an absolute mess. Lucifer and Crawley were already known as troublemakers. The first day of second year Lucifer had a new uniform that his father had bought him. He had a bright idea: give the old one to Crawley, who then started alternating his Ravenclaw uniform with the Slytherin one. The teachers weren’t happy.With all the students they had to teach and with Crawley’s constant change of uniforms, the teachers couldn't keep up and were taking and giving points between both houses because they couldn't remember which one he was in.
The director had a long talk with him.
The director was a good woman. She had seen Crawley and Lucifer in her office enough times to be softened by the two boys’ friendship. She tried to not show favoritism, but she gave Crawley permission to keep wearing the Slytherin uniform if he wanted, with the condition that he could only wear it in the common spaces of the castle. He needed to take his classes wearing the Ravenclaw uniform and only use the Ravenclaw Common Room. She didn’t say anything about all the mischief he had made in school over the last two years. After that, the teachers had no more trouble knowing who he was and that he was a Ravenclaw student.
Crawley had entered the director’s office frightened, worried that she would treat him harshly, but he was relieved by her kindness. He walked out reassured and ran to Lucifer to tell him the good news.
Finding Raphael A. Crawley alone, not surrounded by the Hell Gang of Slytherin, was something that rarely happened. Every Tuesday at 5 pm Beatrice, a fourth year Slytherin, (Beel to the other Slytherin students) would be found taking an advanced potions class. Dagon, also a fourth year Slytherin, would be in the Quidditch pitch as would every other respectable member of the team. Lucifer Morningstar, now in his third year, would be in the Dueling Club, probably winning against some poor fifth year student who didn’t take him seriously enough. Hastur and Ligur, also Slytherin students (both from third year) would probably be making mischief somewhere in the castle.
But where young Crawley could be found at that time was a mystery. If you really wished to talk to him, first you would have to find him. Was he in the Astronomy Tower? The Ravenclaw Common Room? In the Dueling Club, cheering for Lucifer? The Great Hall? The Library? The fields? Only Merlin knew. You had only two hours until the gang was back together and then you had to wait until next week.
Aziraphale Fell, a second year student, asked some of his friends from third year for help with the plant for his Herbology class. They didn’t know very much about herbology, so they suggested that he ask a friend of theirs, Michael, also from third year, a Ravenclaw. Michael looked at Aziraphale with the expression of someone who was smelling rotten meat. Adjusting her glasses over her sharp nose, she told Aziraphale to look for someone more suitable to help him: Raphael Crawley, third year. She said, “I don’t know where he is. He has the best grades in Herbology, but don’t talk to him if he is with Slytherin students because they’re going to ignore you or kick you out. Why? Because you’re a Hufflepuff; that’s how the Slytherin gang is. If you recognize Lucifer Morningstar , keep away from him. Now leave me alone.”
“Excuse me. Are you Raphael Crawley?” Aziraphale finally found the redheaded Ravenclaw, dressed as a Slytherin in the library, just before closing time.
“Yes, who are you?” Crawley looked at the chubby and nervous Hufflepuff before him.
“My name is Aziraphale, I’m from Hufflepuff, second year.” Aziraphale, Hufflepuff second year student, had dove-like blond hair and bright blue eyes. Before Crawley could ask him what he needed, Aziraphale blurted out, “My plant is dying and Michael from Ravenclaw said you could help me.” With every word the chubby boy sounded more and more distressed . “I don’t know anyone else to ask. The teacher said, ‘use the book,’ but I used it and the plant doesn’t seem to get better. I can’t fail my first project, plea– ”
Aziraphale stopped mid-sentence because the rest of the students in the library shushed him. Crawley sighed. Michael didn’t want to help the poor kid so she sent him to him. Now he was dealing with a Hufflepuff student in the middle of a nervous breakdown.
“Sure, I have time. Show it to me.”
They left the library and went to the Hufflepuff Common Room so Aziraphale could grab the plant and take it outside to show Crawley.
“At least you are giving the plant enough water,” Crawley said sarcastically, looking at a pot with an “angel wings” plant in it. Aziraphale was definitely watering it, maybe too much. In second year, Professor Sprout handed every student a little plant, not necessarily a magical one, for them to keep alive. Usually no one failed, but this plant was barely holding on to life.
“ You know that plants also need to eat? You can’t just whisper nice things to them and expect them to grow better . They need water but also sun, food and discipline. Meet me tomorrow at 7 am at the Astronomy Tower and I will give you some fertilizer.”
“Thank you so much!”
“But don’t say a word. I’m not going to help every Hufflepuff kid. I’m just making an exception for this poor plant. I don’t want a horde of students following me begging for help.”
“I know, I know. Thank you so much again Crawley. You are an angel!”
“No! I’m not, shut up!”