The other day, I wondered how the world of Harry Potter would be different if all students were sorted every year, rather than only in their first. So I wrote this.
Little is changed
from Harry Potter’s first year at Hogwarts. Still he sits under that
hat, thinking, not Slytherin;
still the Hat considers his potential before sending him to
Gryffindor. Still he is joined in Gryffindor by Ron Weasley and
Hermione Granger, still the Slytherin he so feared to be in will hold
Draco Malfoy. Little is different about the placement of the older
students, for all the Sorting Ceremony is made longer, and the Hat’s
song a little changed, with their participation. Fred and George
Weasley, like their younger brother, are still in Gryffindor.
Ambitious Percy Weasley may be in Slytherin by now, maybe not yet,
but he is a Prefect regardless. Oliver Wood or someone like him will
still be Harry’s first Quidditch Captain.
Harry’s second year, he and Ron are in more trouble than ever for
missing the Sorting Ceremony. Now the Hat must be got out again to
Sort these two boys who have caused such a stir, to confirm what
surprises no one: both will remain in Gryffindor this year. (This
time, Harry is once again thinking his wishes to the Hat, but instead
of not Slytherin, he
is pleading, Gryffindor, Gryffindor
– picturing the warm Gryffindor common room that is the first home
he has ever known, the first place that has welcomed him rather than
shut him away. The hat, once again, obeys his wishes.) Both boys are
relieved to find their House much the same as they left it; Hermione
Granger is in their midst again, joined by Ron’s shy little sister
Longbottom, who had been plagued throughout his first year in
Gryffindor by doubt as to his right to be there, is with them again,
too. They missed his silent drama at the Ceremony, too, as the boy
sat under the Hat that could see into his mind and reflected on the
end of term. He had remembered standing up to the three classmates he
thought he could call his friends, only to be left behind – hexed,
as he so often was, ridiculed. More proof that he did not belong in
the brave House. But he remembered, too, Dumbledore’s voice at the
end-of-year feast – praising him for doing what was hard. He
remembered being awarded House points for this simple act, and with
the meagre sum, winning Gryffindor the House Cup. That heady feeling
of being, for just one moment, a celebrated hero – that was like
nothing else. That was worth a year and more of self-doubt. So
Neville now unpacked his bags in the Gryffindor dormitories again,
and, like Harry, he felt for the first time that he was home.
has grown complacent, all his friends staying with him from his first
year to his second. He hears the warnings of the older students on
his Quidditch team (some of whom go from one House’s team to the
next from year to year), the reminders that he will need to make new
friends soon, but he does not really believe them. He cannot imagine
his world changing even more than it has.
is why he feels as though his stomach has dropped out of his body, as
though he has fallen into some bottomless pit, when things change in
his third year. He is still in Gryffindor, yes, and still with Ron,
thank goodness for that, but Hermione Granger is no longer of their
House. Hermione, who spent the last term of her second year as a
statue, whose research was the only part of her that got to be a part
of the battle in the Chamber of Secrets, who scrambled and sweated
when she was unpetrified to pass all her courses in the remaining
days of term – despite the promises of the administration that
classes missed by the basilisk’s victims would not be held against
their grades. Hermione, who had been called an “insufferable
know-it-all” so many times that it had almost stopped hurting, who
had felt so frustrated with the cavalier attitude her fellow
Gryffindors took to classwork. She was now a Ravenclaw, the blue
insignia on her robes matching that of Ginny Weasley, who seemed to
have shrunk in on herself after the events of last term. (Ginny, like
Harry in his first year, sat under the Hat in her second year
thinking not Slytherin, not Slytherin,
but then she had paused, and thought, not Gryffindor,
too, because Riddle had possessed her despite her red-and-gold robes,
and because she did not feel brave.)
Hermione, and Luna Lovegood (here is one girl the Hat cannot imagine
placing anywhere but Ravenclaw, though it will surprise itself in
years to come) soon find each other in the Ravenclaw common room, and
form an odd, but tight, bond over the first few weeks of term.
Hermione finds that it is nice to have close friends who are girls;
she never had this in her two years in Gryffindor. She still finds
time to talk to Harry, to help him with an essay in the library or to
keep him company on restless Hogsmeade weekends or to walk with him
to Hagrid’s hut. They are still friends, and good ones; no
disparity of House can change the bond forged in fighting a mountain
troll together, and all they have been through together since.
explains this, at last, to Ron Weasley in the days before Christmas
vacation, when the dark looks he has been sending her all term
finally come to a head in a shouting match outside the Divination
tower. Ron, too quick to view matters in black and white, had seen
her Ravenclaw badge as a betrayal, a defection. Had imagined that
this was her choice, rather than the honest assessment of the Hat.
Had felt left behind, discarded, second-rate, dismissed like his
brothers’ hand-me-down robes that he wore. With Harry to remind him
not to be an ass, to remind Hermione that Ron was always like this,
they made up soon enough. Hermione laughed and called Ron an idiot,
but fondly; and he laughed back, and told her that the blue and
silver only made her look more the nerd. The trio were reunited, even
if they were in different houses.
after that fight at least, perhaps the difference of house was a
blessing in disguise. Crookshanks could not worry at Ron’s rat when
they lived in different common rooms. There was no fight between Ron
and Hermione about their pets; when Scabbers went missing, there was
no talk of foul play, only an agreement between the three friends
that they would try to find him. The
three were still present in the Shrieking Shack, two Gryffindor
children and one Ravenclaw, to bear witness to the true identity of
Scabbers, to bear witness to the reunion of the three living
Marauders. They still saved Buckbeak; they still lost Pettigrew.
Apparently, the Mad Hatter character from Alice in Wonderland is based on Erethism, also known as “Mad Hatter Disease”.
Hat making factories used to use mercury in order to stabilize the wool in the felt hats. Factory workers exposed to mercury fumes all day suffered from neurological diseases that caused psychosis and erratic behaviors, hence the nickname. It also led to the expression “as mad as a hatter”
can i request a jughead imagine with the prompt, “i think i’m in love with you, and i’m terrified.”
I’m sorry it’s so short, it’s more of a drabble than an imagine!
“C’mon, Y/N, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Jughead said, but you were too busy looking around the diner, looking anywhere but at him. He had taken it too far, almost getting into a fight with Reggie, then just making a joke about it all. “It’s like you don’t care about your well being,” you said, finally looking back at him and seeing his greenish-blue eyes. He shut his laptop screen and lean forward, across the diner table. “Can we go outside and talk?” His voice was surprisingly calm, so you nodded and he packed up his belongings. When outside, Jughead turned, pressing you against the wall of Pop’s diner. “You’re right, I don’t care about myself, because I know that there’s a killer out there and I’m worried about you.” You stared up at him and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. The arm that had caged you against the wall, fell to his side. You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Jug, I’m going to be fine but I need you to look out for yourself too.” He pulled his hand out of yours, rubbing his palms against his face. He turned his back to you and you could see his back heaving. “Jug-” you started, but your friend turned around and you stopped upon seeing the tears in his eyes. “Y/N, you don’t get it,” his voice was quiet when he spoke now, “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”
His words left you speechless. All you could do was walk towards him a wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. You felt his arms wrap around you as well, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Despite the fact and you Jughead having been friends for many years, you had never seen such a blatant show of emotion like this. You were used to his dry humor that always made you smile, but sarcasm would have never been able to hide these feelings. You felt his hands at the small of your back, pushing you closer to him. At some point during the hug, it started to rain. Little droplets fell against your hair and Jughead’s hat. You felt his shoulders shake and you pulled back to see if he was crying; but it was a smile that graced his lips instead of a frown. “Why are you laughing?” You asked, smiling at him, but he just slumped his head on his shoulder. “This is just…” he moved his head, looking into your eyes, “I tell you about how I feel and then it started to rain.” You reached up, the back of your knuckles stroking his cheek. His hand reaches up to grab yours, pulling you a little closer. You eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and you blushed when you realized he was doing the same. “Are we really gonna kiss in the rain?” His voice was a whisper, but you smiled at his tone. “I think we are,” you replied with a grin. The tips of your noses brushed as your faces grew closer. You lips met his in one quick movement and it was a flurry of emotions. His hand found your waist and yours landed on the back of his neck. You felt the rain start to fall heavier as he deepened the kiss.
You finally pulled back for air, you left him panting. You studied his face with somewhat swollen lips and you giggled at the expression in his eyes. “That was…” you nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him under a rain guard near the diner. “Cliche?” You asked, taking his soaking hat off his head and running your fingers through his hair. He gave you a grin before he started to lean down again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.
You stayed in the diner until the rain stopped and then Jughead started to walk you home. The walk was quiet for the most part, it wasn’t until you reached the edge of your driveway when someone spoke. “Y/N, I know that all of that,” Jughead raised his hands, “but if you don’t want to date I unders-” You cut off his rambling by pressing your lips to his once more. His hand instinctively reached for yours, holding it loosely. You backed away with a smile, “I think I love you too, Jughead.” The smile he gave you was breathtaking, but you had to go inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, walking towards your house. His fingers were still tangled with yours, but as you pulled away, he let go on your hand. “Tomorrow.” He whispered to himself as he walked away. He would see you tomorrow.
I'm like 90% sure someone has probably already come up with this but on a whim today I figured a mafia au in which TC is a mafia boss of which few have seen but many have heard of, Christine is a singer who doesn't.. want to cover for his crimes but does bc [insert reason here] and all the while she's trying to keep raoul out of the whole thing,,
Your icon is amazing btw and AHHH! I love it…I love it….I am not sure what era you meant for this AU but my mind went straight to 30s-40s film noir/pulpy crime novels…
*defeatedly adds “Frankenstein’s Mobster AU” to the list*