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Sorting Victory

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Victoire Weasley was nervous.

At eleven years old, she was the eldest child in the Weasley family, something that she was not sure she was happy about. Her mother was famous from being a contender in the Triwizard Tournament when she had been at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and her father was famous for being a war hero in the Second Wizarding War against Voldemort. She was from an entire family with big shoes to fill, and Victoire was worried that she didn't have the stuff the fill them properly. It was, after all, a difficult thing to ask of such a young girl who was just about to enter her first year at Hogwarts.

Victoire's mother – the ever lovely Fleur Weasley – did not want her daughter to attend Hogwarts, which added to Vic's nervousness. She had wanted Victoire – and eventually her other children Dominique and Louis – to go to her own Alma Mater, Beauxbatons. But Victoire and her father, Bill Weasley, fought tooth and nail for her to go to Hogwarts, the school that every Weasley had always attended, and the school where Victoire's name had been down since she was born. It had taken much convincing for Fleur to finally give in and allow her precious daughter to go to the school she found academically poorer than the one she'd been to.

Victoire had been so sure that coming to Hogwarts was the right thing. She had heard all of the fun adventures that her father, aunts, and uncles had enjoyed while in the castle. She was meant to be at Hogwarts

But now that she was standing in the entry way to the Great Hall, she was unsure.

As amazing as it had been growing up in the Weasley family, there was always the burden of belonging to a family of war heroes. There wasn't a person in the Wizarding world who didn't know the Weasley name, especially in the United Kingdom, where the majority of the Second War had taken place. Being a part of one of the first groups of children born following the end of the war, she doubted there was a single one of her classmates – besides those raised by Muggles – who hadn't heard the countless stories about the Weasley brood. Victoire felt her face growing hot as she noticed her classmates stating and pointing at her.

Maybe I should have gone to Beauxbatons after all, she thought to herself, glancing around at the other students. There had been a jump in the number of children born to magical families in the twelve years since the war had ended. Victoire herself was born on the anniversary of the downfall of Voldemort. Une victoire, her mother had called it. A victory. Victoire herself, in many ways, was a victory for her parents. Both had put their lives at risk for the greater good. Her father still bore the scars of being attacked by a bloodthirsty werewolf named Greyback.

"You're Victoire Weasley, right?" a bright-eyed girl asked, being among the first to approach Victoire.

"Yes," she said, trying to sound as confidant as possible. "I'm Vic."

She smiled. "I thought so. We share a birthday."

"Were you in the book as well?" Victoire asked with curiosity.

There was a book, published five years after the fall of Voldemort, called Children of Victory, which was filled with pictures of babies who were born on May 2nd. Victoire, being born on May 2nd and also being the daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley, was featured on the cover, a happy, smiling angel at the age of two, unaware of her importance. Inside the book were biographies of the children's parents and families and pictures at various stages of life. Every few years, a new edition was published with updated bios and pictures. When Victoire was nine and had begun to realize how special the world thought she was, she'd requested that no further information be printed about her.

"I was," she said. "My name is Nike Katsaros. I was the entry right after yours." Nike held out her hand for Victoire to shake and she took it.

"It's nice to meet you, Nike," Victoire said sincerely.

"I guess you're heading for Gryffindor," Nike gushed. "I hope that's where I'll be."

Victoire shrugged. "I haven't thought about which house I'll be in much. I just want the Sorting Hat to put me wherever it sees fit."

"But your entire family's been in Gryffindor, haven't they?"

"They have," she admitted. "But my mum was a student at Beauxbatons. Maybe I've inherited some French magic school expectations."

Nike smiled and nodded, like she thought that Vic was being silly.

"We're ready for you now," Professor Sprout, the Deputy Headmistress, said returning from the Great Hall.

Victoire's nerves, which had begun to melt away slightly as she talked with Nike, returned tenfold as she and the other first years walked into the Hall. She was so nervous again that she could hardly pay attention as the ancient hat sitting on the three-legged stool sang his annual song. She could hardly think of anything at all as her classmates began to be sorted. She barely registered that Nike Katsaros had been sorted into Gryffindor. She almost didn't realize that her name had been called until she felt her legs take her through the now thin group of first years cursed with names farther in the alphabet than her.

"It's been a while since I've sorted a Weasley," a soft voice said in her ears as the oversized hat slipped onto Victoire's head. "Let's see… where to put you. Of course, the easy answer is Gryffindor. I've never had a Weasley not be in Gryffindor. But there's something else there. You have bravery, oh yes, plenty of bravery. How could you not with a family like your? And yet... there's also a great thirst for knowledge, for knowing. You could drink in every fact and it would still never be enough. So much to consider. So much…"

Victoire sat fidgeting, wishing the hat would just make its decision.

"Perhaps –"


The students at Ravenclaw house gave a nearly deafening cheer as Victoire hopped off the stool to join the house she'd never thought about joining.

And she was grinning from ear to ear.