Chapter Text
Preface- Destiny
or
"A Lengthy Game of Chess"
People thought she was lying when she said she didn't know what House she was going to end up in. Even Aedion, back then, was so surprised at the length of her sorting. But her father was in Ravenclaw, and her mother in Gryffindor, and she didn't care.
Everyone knew that, at least. She didn't care, she was so wrapped up in her own beliefs and self-importance that the Houses didn't matter to her one bit. However, people still insisted that from the second Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, age 11, stalked into the Great Hall on September first, they knew where she'd end up.
("I look good in red," she would say years later. "That's all it was." But by then they knew she was lying.)
When Aelin sat on that stool, the Sorting Hat spoke to her in a calm, steady voice for nearly five minutes straight. It told her that she was loyal and smart and cunning and brave, and she told it that it was wrong. It was wrong, but her father spoke very highly of the Sorting Hat, and so she'd listen to wherever it decided to put her. It told her she was a little humble for Slytherin, and she told him she was anything but. At the three minute mark, the Sorting Hat asked her if she was purposely trying to perplex it. Aelin laughed, thereby greatly confusing the students lined up in a row in front of her, but said no.
Slytherin, then, said the Hat in a small voice in her ear. But it saw her as raw, raw potential. Aelin had that dark spark behind her eyes, that ruthlessness that was very, very silver and green. But the rest of her, not to mention her illustrious lineage and her pure goodness and idealism was the opposite. It was a delicate balance, the thin edge of a coin that threatened to fall either way.
Long story short, Aelin was a hatstall to end all hatstalls.
Slytherin, said the Sorting Hat, sounding positively excited with a challenge. Or, if you really want that tight knit community of friends I would go Gryffindor.
"No," Aelin whispered. "I don't care much about the friends."
And you'd like the challenge of working your way up in society? So Slytherin?
"That sounds fun." Aelin agreed. "But-"
But what, child?
"My, um, my cousin."
Aedion Ashryver. I sorted him in about three seconds, child.
"He's in Gryffindor. I want to-he was my best friend. I want to see him. More, I mean, I know he's older, but I want to see him."
The Sorting Hat sighed in her ear. Aelin Galathynius, are you sure?
"No."
You know you'll excel no matter where you are. It' s in your blood.
"That's enough about my blood."
Yes, I think I quite agree. For you, it'll have to be-"GRYFFINDOR!"
Aelin pushed the hat off her head, smiling triumphantly at the sighs of the first years and the enthusiastic clapping of her cousin's friends. She flounced off the dais and sat confidently across from Aedion, and they smiled identical, terrifying, grins at each other. The rest of the first years joined her slowly, and no one seemed to beat the five minute and thirty-eight second long Sorting record Aelin had just set.
(Aedion had timed it, the absolute fool.)
The boy next to her was named Chaol, and there was a quiet girl next to him who quietly introduced herself as 'Faliq'.
Her cousin took her hand gently and pointed to the small girl being sorted. Her long dark hair hung in front of her face in waves.
"That's one of ours." he said quietly. "Cal's daughter."
Another girl of Terrasen? Terrasen's court was a small group of purebloods grouped by their shared links to fae ancestry. They were currently led by the Ashryver and Galathynius bloodlines, which meant that Aelin was basically Terrasen's baby.
"Elide, right?" asked Aelin as the girl went to Slytherin.
"Yeah. A lot of us went to Slytherin, you know?" he said, grinning. "A, you may like them now, but just wait until Quidditch season."
Aelin laughed. "Slytherin, huh?"
(Bad Girls Club)
Manon Blackbeak somehow already looked like she owned the Slytherin table. It was true, no Blackbeak (no Ironteeth Blackbeak) had ever gone to any of the other three houses. And Manon knew without a doubt that she belonged here.
Her cousin, Asterin, was still waiting to be Sorted, but her some of her girls from back home had already surrounded her. Falline and Fallon were seated to her immediate right, and Lin and Imogen mirrored them to her other side. Ghislaine had immediately been placed in Ravenclaw, but they all knew that was going to happen. Vesta and Sorrel had been placed in Gryffindor, a surprise on Sorrel's part, but not Vesta's. Manon was pretty sure Asterin would join them, but she held out hope that her friend would land in Slytherin with her.
Her people continued to be separated. Thea and Kaya joined Ghislaine, while Edda and Briar were actually sorted into Hufflepuff. Manon covered her smirk in a lace handkerchief. And finally, Asterin stepped up, determination in her gold eyes.
The Sorting Hat took a minute, before it placed her in Hufflepuff.
Manon choked on the handkerchief, slamming her palm on the flat of the table. A second year with hair as silver as hers glowered at her.
"Can it, Whitethorn," she hissed, still staring daggers at Asterin. The blonde walked with dignity towards the honey table, glancing once at Manon. Their eyes met. Asterin seemed to be pleading, quietly, but it was too late.
Manon grinned, absolutely predatory. Asterin! Her bold Asterin, out there with the useless Puffs and the muggleborns and the wretched blood traitors (barring Edda and Briar, of course). She was never going to live this down.
Just then, two girls joined the Slytherin table. They both had waves of dark hair, but the similarity stopped there. One walked with her head held high, already winking foolishly at the other students with bright green eyes. The other wore her hair lank and in front of her face, and she made eye contact with no one.
“Lysandra.” said the confident one, nodding at Manon. “Good to meet you.”
Manon was silent for a long time. The girl didn't offer a surname. “Manon Blackbeak. Who're you?”
Here she spoke to the quiet one.
“Elide.”
She met Manon's eyes then, and despite the unassuming manner, Manon could detect a little intelligence behind those eyes, and she didn't object as both girls sat down in front of her.
(Please Pretend)
Dorian Havilliard seemed to have a charming smile for everyone at the Ravenclaw table, which he had just joined. He shot Chaol a smile and a shrug where he sat, slumped against the Gryffindor table. They both knew Chaol was destined for Gryffindor, and that there was very little chance of Dorian not being placed in Ravenclaw. It still stung to be far apart, though.
He looked around. He was sitting next to a pretty girl with brown hair and skin, who was quietly listening to two upperclassmen talk about classes.
"Hi." said Dorian, offering her his hand. The girl turned, startled, her eyes wide. She settled into a smile, and took his hand.
"Hello."
"I'm Dorian."
"Sorscha."
"Nice to meet you, Sorscha." said Dorian. She had startlingly pretty eyes. "Are you excited about Hogwarts?"
Sorscha laughed. "Of course, aren't you? It's all I've thought about for the last few months."
"Months? I've been thinking of it most my life."
"That was some song." commented Sorscha, nodding at the Sorting Hat. "It really added to the hype, I think."
"Quite. I mean, I didn't need the song. My friend Chaol told me I was gonna get into Ravenclaw a long time ago, and I guess he was right."
"I didn't know a single thing about the Houses before it."
"No? What did you parents tell you?"
Sorscha's expression tightened infinitesimally. But before Dorian could retract or comment, she smiled once again. "I'm muggleborn, actually. I did a lot of reading this summer, but I still have to catch up a lot."
"Oh, don't worry about catching up. Most of us barely know any magic at all, even the purebloods." said Dorian. "So I suppose you don't know anyone at Hogwarts?"
Her smiled widened. "Actually, I do. I have a friend, pureblood, if you can believe it. I grew up with her, but she's not in Ravenclaw. She's a fourth year."
(Sacrifice)
Nehemia Ytger sat calmly, hands folded in her lap, as the first years were sorted. Sorscha had smiled at her on her way up, and though Nehemia had hoped her old friend would be in her house, she knew Ravenclaw would really help her. Goodness, that girl was too pretty for words.
"Hey," said a voice by her ear. Nehemia gave a half-turn, barely moving. Her mouth tightened at the sight of Archer Finn, fellow fourth year, sitting next to her.
"You shouldn't be here."
"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" asked Archer, his classically handsome face curling with a smile. Nehemia sniffed. She wasn't particularly fond of him.
"That's not what we are." she said, lips barely moving.
Archer turned serious. "I have information."
"Pick a better time to tell it to me."
"It's about Adarlan, princess, come on."
"Stop."
"You wanted to know about Terrasen, right?" snapped Archer. "Cause they're multiplying."
She glanced at the Gryffindor table, where Aedion Ashryver was quietly staring at the Sorting Hat. At the girl currently walking to the hat. "Who is that?" she breathed. She had always thought Aedion was a decent sort of person.
"Aelin Ashryver Galathynius." He smirked at her gasp. "Yeah, both last names. She's basically Terrasen's frontman right now. And that's not all. Cal Lochan's daughter is here this year too."
"We like Terrasen." said Nehemia. "Terrasen's court's been targeted by Adarlan for years, these are the last purebloods we have to worry about. We like the blood traitors, remember?"
"What if I told you there are about fifteen Ironteeth girls about to be sorted?"
Nehemia knocked over her pumpkin juice. Ironteeth girls? The Ironteeth witches were famous, they were one of the oldest matriarchal witch clans still alive, and they were famous for being very, very dangerous.
"In fact, " continued Archer nonchalantly, handing her a napkin. "A couple have joined my house. A couple are in Ravenclaw too. Your girl's in there, isn't she?"
"Stay away from her." said Nehemia immediately, accented voice rising.
"Drop the foreigner talk." said Archer. "I thought you stopped pretending in first year. Her name's Sorscha, right? And she's one of you Ellywes? She sure looks it." He gestured to Nehemia's ebony skin.
She wasn't. She was from Fenharrow, and her skin wasn't nearly Ellywe. Her family had survived the years of persecution, the centuries of inequality-
For the first time that night, Nehemia turned to face him completely. "Listen to me, Archer Finn." she said. "I don't care where your daddy works, where you get information, but you signed on to this cause. That means you answer to me and my parents. And if I tell you to stay away from her, you're going to. Because I can make your life a living hell."
She saw the derision on his face plain as day. She was a Hufflepuff, a girl, a pureblood, what on earth could she do to him? And then, as Nehemia held his gaze, she watched him slowly become afraid.
Archer Finn was a coward. And she knew how to exploit that.
"GRYFFINDOR!" called the Sorting Hat. The girl with the pale gold hair-Aelin Ashryver Galathynius-stalked past, grinning. Nehemia didn't spare her a glance.
"Adarlan's on the move." said Finn quietly. "We think he's gonna make a move soon. And worst of all, there's a Havilliard among the first years. And he's the one talking to your girl."
Nehemia's jaw tightened, and she glared at him. "And you think that right now, in the middle of the feat, is the right time to tell me? Go back, Archer."
He sneered at her, but complied, stealthily picking his way back to the Slytherin table. Nehemia zeroed in on the sight of a laughing Sorscha exchanging words with a slight boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes. A Havilliard? The family responsible for Adarlan and the relentless torment her parents went through?
Her eyes narrowed. No, she decided, not this year.