Nil Carborundum Illegitimi
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,918
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,918
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Ritual of the Hat
The pale boy wearing the smoked glass spectacles that he would always wear throughout his career at Hogwarts and beyond, stepped carefully out of the swaying, bucking rowing boat and followed the first years up into the bowels of Hogwarts castle. He was fourteen but, like the first years, he had only just started Hogwarts. Hagrid, jollying the young pupils along, noticed that there was a circle of empty space around the lad, and that no one seemed to talk to him. However, his curiosity was snatched away by a girl with long plaits falling into the lake as she tried to climb out of her boat
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Arwarn drew the black robes more tightly around his cold body and stumbled up the narrow passageway. He was used to having no friends, for he had never had any to miss. Hagrid's pity was wasted upon him. What he did miss was his homeland, where his mother was the lady-in-waiting to the Queen, the air was sweet with the scent of gorse and heather, the sky tempestuous. Brought up at court, Arwarn had been considered little more than a nuisance and at best a curiosity. His mother, with her high status and the realisation of the mistake he had been, loved him in a her distant way. Everyone else saw him as one of the half-breeds that lived around the palace and eventually died for The Hunt. The little child's only playmates had been the boarhounds and staghounds of the hunt, which did not hold the prejudices that his mother's people did. His childhood had not been happy or sad, neither one of pleasure or pain. It had just simply been.
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Professor McGonagall, her eyes apprehensive behind her pince-nez glasses, placed the torn, battered Sorting Hat on the black and silver hair of the boy that sat on the stool. Professor Dumbledore had told her of the special circumstances that the child was attending Hogwarts, but she could not stop her flesh crawling. Minerva McGonagall was never this judgmental of any student, not even the Malfoys that cropped up every generation, but this boy was different. He sat, pale and shivering in his well-fitting robes (even though he was a half-breed, his tribe would not let anyone venture out into the human world without looking decent), smoked glass lenses obscuring his expressionless eyes. Professor McGonagall, who had lived too long in the wizarding world not to have prejudice against the Elves of the Summer Lands, gave an involuntary shudder. As a race the Elves had caused too much destruction and death for most of the older generations to trust any one of them
Inside the hat, Arwarn squeezed his eyes closed and waited for the hat to say anything. Was he supposed to talk to it, or would it spontaneously address him? I talk to you, young Arwarn. You are worried, but you need not be afraid, soothed the hat. I am here, and I will help you with your choices.
"It's not that. That's fine, but its here that I'm not used to. These lands scare me with their.... ordinariness! Where is the rolling sky, the cries of the hawks, the smell of slashed turf and crushed heather? All I can sense is mildew and old school dinners!"
You must get used to here, for you will be in Hogwarts for seven years, replied the hat. You will make friends and have fun, little one, you will. Everything new is difficult at first, but everything will become more easy.
"But....will they accept me? To them I'm just a half-breed, just as I am to my mother."
There will be prejudice; there will be pain. You cannot remove this from your life, as you are what you are and that is what you will always be. You are not one thing, but not another - it disturbs humans and Elves. They cannot see part of you, the part that is opposite and obscene to them. They fear you not because of what you aren't, but because of what you are - mysterious but unpredictable, half-savage to either culture.
"What am I to do then?" whispered Arwarn. "How can I live in a society where no-one accepts me?"
Isn't that how you live back in the Summer Lands? asked the Hat, a little too innocently for Arwarn's taste.
"Yes, but....!"
Some people's niche in life is to be surrounded with friends. Some are loners. You are one of the latter, Arwarn. You must come to terms with the fact that many people will hate you ...
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, hat," hissed Arwarn, fighting back tears. He was feeling more deserted than he had ever felt before. The Sorting Hat felt a little guilty at this, and made some comforting noises and told him there there until he calmed down and stopped sniffling.
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In the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall glanced at Albus Dumbledore, a troubled look sparking in her eyes but her face impassive. The Sorting Hat had not spoken for several minutes and everyone was getting a little excited. A buzzing from the students, worried about what was happening was punctured by someone saying, "well, maybe it's broken down! It is over a thousand, isn't it?!"
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Arwarn, the troops are starting to riot. We better sort you. Where would you like to go child?
"Home would be nice."
This is your home now, the hat added gently. This is where you will become strong. This is where you will grow to your full potential. You are more powerful in your type of magic than anyone else in this room, even Dumbledore.
"Who's he?" Arwarn had not read about Hogwarts for books and information were both rare in the Summer Lands. His people knew, or chose to know, little of Hogwarts. The only thing he truly knew was that it was a school.
He is the headmaster of this school, and a great wizard. He is perhaps one of the most powerful and good that there has ever been.
"Good? Are there Dark wiz too too?"
Yes there are, Arwarn. But I must sort you now, as Professor McGonagall is looking a little anxious. Hmmm...
"Hmmm....what?"
I'm looking into your mind. Arwarn squirmed by the idea of an inanimate object knowing all his intimate thoughts. You are clever, no doubt about that, while your heart is loyal. You are brave, and you are cunning and sly, as befits your race. You are a problem, Arwarn!
"How come it's a problem? Sorry."
There are four houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Ravenclaw. You, potentially, could be placed in any of them. And don't worry, I like problems - most people are so easy to Sort, but you are a challenge. And tell me of your surname "“ most of your race does not bother, do they?
"One of the ones who brought me was reading a Muggle newspaper about the Sandinista in a place called Nicaragua." Arwarn's surname became much more acceptable after a Muggle punk group called The Clash made an album called Sandinista. In fact, if he was feeling rather devilish, he had to admit the name made him sound a little cool. The boy who would become that man sighed within the Hat. "Where will I fit in best? I mean...what if I don't like it?"
Now, Arwarn, you know you will find it difficult to fit into the most welcoming house. You will learn to cope with this. The hat gave him a felt-covered grin. I have decided however. You are going to be in....
Everyone jumped when the Sorting Hat, smirking in triumph, shrieked out:
SLYTHERIN!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arwarn drew the black robes more tightly around his cold body and stumbled up the narrow passageway. He was used to having no friends, for he had never had any to miss. Hagrid's pity was wasted upon him. What he did miss was his homeland, where his mother was the lady-in-waiting to the Queen, the air was sweet with the scent of gorse and heather, the sky tempestuous. Brought up at court, Arwarn had been considered little more than a nuisance and at best a curiosity. His mother, with her high status and the realisation of the mistake he had been, loved him in a her distant way. Everyone else saw him as one of the half-breeds that lived around the palace and eventually died for The Hunt. The little child's only playmates had been the boarhounds and staghounds of the hunt, which did not hold the prejudices that his mother's people did. His childhood had not been happy or sad, neither one of pleasure or pain. It had just simply been.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Professor McGonagall, her eyes apprehensive behind her pince-nez glasses, placed the torn, battered Sorting Hat on the black and silver hair of the boy that sat on the stool. Professor Dumbledore had told her of the special circumstances that the child was attending Hogwarts, but she could not stop her flesh crawling. Minerva McGonagall was never this judgmental of any student, not even the Malfoys that cropped up every generation, but this boy was different. He sat, pale and shivering in his well-fitting robes (even though he was a half-breed, his tribe would not let anyone venture out into the human world without looking decent), smoked glass lenses obscuring his expressionless eyes. Professor McGonagall, who had lived too long in the wizarding world not to have prejudice against the Elves of the Summer Lands, gave an involuntary shudder. As a race the Elves had caused too much destruction and death for most of the older generations to trust any one of them
Inside the hat, Arwarn squeezed his eyes closed and waited for the hat to say anything. Was he supposed to talk to it, or would it spontaneously address him? I talk to you, young Arwarn. You are worried, but you need not be afraid, soothed the hat. I am here, and I will help you with your choices.
"It's not that. That's fine, but its here that I'm not used to. These lands scare me with their.... ordinariness! Where is the rolling sky, the cries of the hawks, the smell of slashed turf and crushed heather? All I can sense is mildew and old school dinners!"
You must get used to here, for you will be in Hogwarts for seven years, replied the hat. You will make friends and have fun, little one, you will. Everything new is difficult at first, but everything will become more easy.
"But....will they accept me? To them I'm just a half-breed, just as I am to my mother."
There will be prejudice; there will be pain. You cannot remove this from your life, as you are what you are and that is what you will always be. You are not one thing, but not another - it disturbs humans and Elves. They cannot see part of you, the part that is opposite and obscene to them. They fear you not because of what you aren't, but because of what you are - mysterious but unpredictable, half-savage to either culture.
"What am I to do then?" whispered Arwarn. "How can I live in a society where no-one accepts me?"
Isn't that how you live back in the Summer Lands? asked the Hat, a little too innocently for Arwarn's taste.
"Yes, but....!"
Some people's niche in life is to be surrounded with friends. Some are loners. You are one of the latter, Arwarn. You must come to terms with the fact that many people will hate you ...
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, hat," hissed Arwarn, fighting back tears. He was feeling more deserted than he had ever felt before. The Sorting Hat felt a little guilty at this, and made some comforting noises and told him there there until he calmed down and stopped sniffling.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall glanced at Albus Dumbledore, a troubled look sparking in her eyes but her face impassive. The Sorting Hat had not spoken for several minutes and everyone was getting a little excited. A buzzing from the students, worried about what was happening was punctured by someone saying, "well, maybe it's broken down! It is over a thousand, isn't it?!"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arwarn, the troops are starting to riot. We better sort you. Where would you like to go child?
"Home would be nice."
This is your home now, the hat added gently. This is where you will become strong. This is where you will grow to your full potential. You are more powerful in your type of magic than anyone else in this room, even Dumbledore.
"Who's he?" Arwarn had not read about Hogwarts for books and information were both rare in the Summer Lands. His people knew, or chose to know, little of Hogwarts. The only thing he truly knew was that it was a school.
He is the headmaster of this school, and a great wizard. He is perhaps one of the most powerful and good that there has ever been.
"Good? Are there Dark wiz too too?"
Yes there are, Arwarn. But I must sort you now, as Professor McGonagall is looking a little anxious. Hmmm...
"Hmmm....what?"
I'm looking into your mind. Arwarn squirmed by the idea of an inanimate object knowing all his intimate thoughts. You are clever, no doubt about that, while your heart is loyal. You are brave, and you are cunning and sly, as befits your race. You are a problem, Arwarn!
"How come it's a problem? Sorry."
There are four houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Ravenclaw. You, potentially, could be placed in any of them. And don't worry, I like problems - most people are so easy to Sort, but you are a challenge. And tell me of your surname "“ most of your race does not bother, do they?
"One of the ones who brought me was reading a Muggle newspaper about the Sandinista in a place called Nicaragua." Arwarn's surname became much more acceptable after a Muggle punk group called The Clash made an album called Sandinista. In fact, if he was feeling rather devilish, he had to admit the name made him sound a little cool. The boy who would become that man sighed within the Hat. "Where will I fit in best? I mean...what if I don't like it?"
Now, Arwarn, you know you will find it difficult to fit into the most welcoming house. You will learn to cope with this. The hat gave him a felt-covered grin. I have decided however. You are going to be in....
Everyone jumped when the Sorting Hat, smirking in triumph, shrieked out:
SLYTHERIN!