Toil and Trouble Chapter 8 : The Journey and the Sorting - Part 2 (A Harry Potter fanfiction)

In a time when many lament the decline of compassion in our world, one wizard’s quiet work stands as a radiant example of what true magical benevolence can achieve. Edmund Ashworth, scholar, philanthropist, and founder of the Havenfield Home for Squibs, has become the heart of a growing movement dedicated to giving every magical soul, however faint their spark, a place of belonging.

Born to muggle parents, Ashworth rose from humble beginnings to earn a Mastery in Magical History and a Mastery in Experimental Transfiguration. He served the Department of Magical Transportation of the Ministry of Magic. Yet it was not bureaucratic power that called to him. It was conscience.

“Too many of our brethren are born without the strength to manifest their gift,” Ashworth told the Prophet in an exclusive interview. “The Squib is not a failure of magic. He is its echo, softer, perhaps, but still deserving of harmony.”

Havenfield Home opened its doors seven years ago, beginning as a converted mansion with only a dozen residents. Today, it shelters over two hundred Squibs of all ages, offering them education, employment training. And as Ashworth describes it, “a chance to live in dignity beneath the same sun as any witch or wizard.” Workshops at Havenfield teach various skills such as potion ingredient preparation and magical creature care. Visiting healers from reputed hospitals such as St. Mungo’s often volunteer to provide the residents with adequate healing should they require it.

Ashworth’s initiatives have grown far beyond the walls of Havenfield. His Sanctum Initiative, a volunteer network now boasting chapters in every major wizarding city, raises funds for “disenfranchised magical beings,” including werewolves and house elves. His speeches, gentle and reasoned, have inspired a generation of young witches and wizards to believe that compassion is the truest mark of power.

“Real strength,” Ashworth says, “is the

Hermione couldn't finish reading what Mr Ashworth's definition of real strength was, as they had almost arrived at Hogwarts.

"You kids better put on your robes", Remus told them. The boys did so right there in the compartment, while Hermione went to the girl's loo. A voice announced that the students must leave their belongings in their compartments, as they will be delivered to their dorm rooms. And that all first years must report to Hogwarts Groundskeeper and Forester, Rubius Hagrid.

Rubius Hagrid wasn't hard to find, being the largest man Hermione had ever seen. He was at least eleven feet tall. His shoulders much broader than most door frames. His hair and beard were dark and looked unkept. Hermione had read about giants and for a moment, she wondered if he was one. But she quickly dismissed that idea. As enormous as Hagrid was, he wasn’t big enough to be a giant.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” the man boomed, his voice echoing cheerfully over the water.

As the kids approached him, being shepherded by Prefects, Hagrid's gaze fell on Harry. His smile suddenly seemed a bit sad, as he rapidly blinked his eyes.

"Harry Potter!", he exclaimed in a voice full of affection, "finally startin' Hogwarts eh? Time sure flies!"

"Nice to meet you, sir", Harry said politely, holding out his hand which the man shook indulgently.

He then turned around and asked no one in particular, "Anyone here lost a toad?".

"I... I did..", came a nervous, shaky voice, "my toad, Trevor."

"Well 'ere he is! Make sure you don't lose 'im again, lad." He gave the toad the pudgy looking boy and he held it close.

"Come, come along now!" Hagrid gestured towards the boats that would take the children to the castle.

Neville, the boy with the toad, got into the same boat as Harry, Hermione and Ron.

"He's a half giant, Hagrid is.", Ron said to Harry and Hermione as they floated across the lake, "my dad told me his father was a wizard, and his mum a giantess."

"Fascinating...." Hermione then noticed the other boy staring fearfully as the water, ad if expecting something to jump out and drag him under.

"It's all right. There's nothing to be afraid of", She told him, feeling the need to reassure the poor bloke.

"I... I heard th-there's a giant squid in the lake...." the boy said in that same nervous tone.

"Yes, I've read about it too", Hermione said with a smile, "but it has never harmed anyone. There nothing to worry about. By the way, I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

The boy managed a shy little smile of his own.

"I'm Neville Lo..Longbottom"

"I'm Ron Weasley", Ron said cheerily.

"And I'm..." Harry was about to introduce himself when Neville spoke up excitedly.

"You're Harry Potter!"

"Yeah... Nice to meet you, mate", Harry smiled as the two boys shook hands.

The kids' awe at the sheer size of Rubius Hagrid was soon overshadowed by the amazement they felt at the sight of the Hogwarts Castle.

It was easily the largest structure she had ever seen. Rising high on the cliffs, its towers blazing with golden light against the night sky.

"Incredible", she whispered.

Harry stared, utterly spellbound. “So that’s Hogwarts,” he said softly, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the vision.

Ron grinned, awe flooding his face. “Wicked.”

"S-so huge!", said Neville.

The first-years followed Hagrid up the winding stone steps, their shoes squelching faintly on the damp path. Above them, the vast oak doors of Hogwarts stood open, spilling golden light into the night.

Hagrid cleared his throat, his deep voice echoing through the entryway. “Right then. Everyone line up. Professor McGonagall’ll take it from here.”

The Prefects had the first years form a line. Hermione stood behind Neville, who stood behind Ron, who stood behind Harry.

Suddenly, she saw that horrid boy from the train, Draco Malfoy, approach them. The two other boys followed him like loyal dogs. He threw her a reproachful look, but his attention was focused mainly on Harry.

Harry had just been talking to Ron about how impossibly large that castle door was when a boy with platinum blonde hair and cold grey eyes approached him.

"So it's true, then", the boy drawled, "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

Jerking his head towards the two big, hulking boys behind him, he said, "This is Crabbe, and that's Goyle."

He then extended his hand, as though bestowing a great honour upon Harry, "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

At this, Ron let out an inelegant snort.

Draco turned sharply towards him.

"Think my name's funny, do you?", he asked with a practiced sneer, "No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley."

"You must understand, Potter, that some families are just better than others", he said to Harry. And casting another hate filled glance at Ron, he added "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Draco held out his hand once again.

Harry, with anger building inside him, regarded Malfoy coldly before replying with, "Thank you. But I can tell the wrong sort myself."

Draco looked stunned.

But before he could even think of a retort, before an authoritative voice spoke his name.

"Malfoy!”

Percy Weasley was striding toward him, his Prefect badge gleaming under the torchlight, his expression tight with disapproval.

“You are out of line,” Percy said crisply. “Literally and figuratively. I would strongly suggest you get back to your spot."

"Watch it, Weasley", Malfoy snapped, "my father...."

“Your father isn’t here,” Percy cut in sharply, “I am. And as a Prefect, I’m responsible for order. Now get back in line, all three of you.”

Draco’s lips pressed into a thin line. Scowling, he turned on his heel and stalked back toward the front of the line.

Hermione who had heard the entire exchange, gave Percy a respectful nod. One that he returned.

Moments later, Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of The Transfiguration Department, the sixth and seventh years Transfiguration Professor, Head of House Gryffindor and the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, arrived.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, everyone,” she said, her voice calm and clear. “In a few moments, you will enter the Great Hall and be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting Ceremony is of utmost importance. It determines your House family while you are here.”

A murmur rippled through the long line of students.

“You will find that your House becomes something of a home within the school,” McGonagall continued. “Your triumphs will earn it points. Any rule breaking will cost points. The House Cup, a great honour, is awarded at the end of the year to the House with the most points."

“Now,” she said briskly, “please follow me into the Hall. The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly.”

The doors of the Great Hall swung open, and a collective gasp rose from the first-years.

To their left, occupying most of the space, were twenty-eight long tables that stretched the length of the hall. One for each year of each House. Each table had to be at least two hundred feet long. To their left were the staff tables. These were a collection of round tables where the teachers and other school employees sat. Hundreds of candles floated in midair, bathing everything in a warm, amber glow. Above them, the ceiling soared. Vast, endless, and filled with stars.

Hermione leaned forward and said to the boys, “It’s enchanted, you know!”

Ron turned around and blinked at her. “What?”

“The ceiling,” she said, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You’ve actually read a book about the ceiling?”

Hermione gave him an unimpressed look. “Knowledge is never wasted.”

Poor Neville, caught between them, wished he'd gone to the back of the line.

Ron whispered to Harry, "she's mental, I'm telling you."

"Be nice, Ron.", Harry whispered back, "she just enjoys learning."

Professor McGonagall led them to the front of the hall, where an ancient, three-legged stool stood on a raised platform. On it sat a battered old hat, patched and frayed, as though it had lived a hundred lives.

For a long moment, it was still. Then the hat twitched, and a rip near the brim opened like a mouth.

The hall fell silent as the hat began to sing.

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me....

Hermione gasped, and stared at the hat utterly bewildered.

The Sorting Hat's song was meant to be a sort of introduction to the four Houses and their core traits.

When the song ended, the Sorting began.

Students began to get sorted into various Houses.

"GRYFFINDOR!", the Hat shouted as a girl with blond curls had it placed on her head.

"RAVENCLAW!", it announced as a tall boy with brown hair was sorted.

"HUFFLEPUFF!", the Hat declared for Justin Finch-fletchley.

Hermione watched as Malfoy, the blonde idiot, sauntered over to the platform with an annoyingly effortless confidence, and sat on the stool.

Scarcely had the Hat touched his head, did it exclaim, "SLYTHERIN!".

Malfoy rose gracefully, looking satisfied and after casting a superior glance at the other first-years, he went to the Slytherin First Year table and sat down.

The two boys who'd been following him were also sorted into the same House. As was a girl with smooth, black hair. And another with equally smooth blond hair.

It was then Harry Potter's turn. The entire hall seemed to hold it's breath, anticipating which House would get The Boy Who Lived.

As soon as the hat was placed on Harry’s head, he felt a voice inside his head.

“Ahh… tricky. Very tricky.”

Harry nearly jumped, but the hat chuckled softly.

“Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. And a thirst to prove yourself. There’s talent here, and ambition too. You could be great, you know. Slytherin might help you on your way to greatness.”

Slytherin. The word echoed in his head like a hiss.

Harry knew that Voldemort was once a student at Hogwarts, and he was a Slytherin. The thought of getting into the same House as his parents' killer filled him with revulsion.

Besides, both his parents had been Gryffindors.

Harry clenched his hands in his lap. Not Slytherin, he thought, hard and desperate. Anywhere but Slytherin.

The hat was quiet for a long moment. Then it sighed.

“If you’re sure… well, better be....”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

After Harry, it was Ron's turn. His Sorting didn't take too long. The Hat easily decided to put him in Gryffindor.

Ron beamed as he walked to the Gryffindor First Year table and sat next to Harry.

Professor McGonagall then called, “Granger, Hermione,”

Hermione walked to the stool. Her steps were brisk and purposeful, her head held high, eyes bright with a mix of nerves and determination. She sat down, as the hat dropped over her curls and slipped down to her eyes.

Almost instantly, the voice came.

“Well, well, what have we here?”

Hermione froze.

“An extraordinary mind… you’ve read every book you could get your hands on, haven’t you? You love to learn. There’s brilliance, yes, and discipline, but also…”

The Hat hummed thoughtfully.

“…a hunger. To excel. To prove yourself. To never be looked down upon.”

Hermione swallowed. She didn’t say anything, but her thoughts flared in response. Of course I want to prove myself. Some think Muggle-borns are less than. But I'll show them.

The Hat chuckled.

“Ah, there it is. The steel beneath the scholarship. You’d do well in Ravenclaw, true. You’d thrive among those who love learning for its own sake. But you…”

Its voice softened, shrewd.

“….you don’t seek knowledge just to know. You seek it to master. To rise. To protect yourself and others from being powerless ever again.”

Hermione’s heart beat faster.

“Yes,” the Hat said decisively. “It’s ambition, not vanity, that drives you. And that, my dear Miss Granger, makes you....."

“SLYTHERIN!”