Standing in a sea of her fellow first years, Greer Faulkner tugged anxiously at the collar of her strange new robes, and took a few deep breaths to settle her nerves.


Never, in her short eleven years of life, had she been quite this nervous.


When she was five and had to play the part of Tulip number three in the school pageant, and dance her own little tulip solo, she didn’t break a sweat.


When her Da announced they’d be moving from their cozy Scottish cottage to Aylesbury England when she was eight, she barely felt a butterfly flit through her stomach. 


Not even when she delivered the Eulogy at her mum’s funeral last year was Greer quite this nervous (though she was far more excited now then she had been on that occasion).


Three weeks ago, Greer had been brought into an entire other world, one she didn't even knew existed let alone that she was a part of. All was revealed to her and her equally excited father when a kindly man named Professor Longbottom had knocked on the door of their Aylesbury home, and announced that Greer had earned a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


Because Greer was an honest to God, magic wielding Witch.


Greer managed a smile at the memory, and how excited she had been to finally have an explanation for her strange abilities. Ever since she was a little girl, Greer had always been able to make things happen without meaning them. When she was hungry, suddenly a three layer cake would come out of the oven, or when the flowers her father brought home from his florist shop began to droop, she could simply squinch her eyebrows and bring them back to life.


Even as she prepared to come to Hogwarts, shopping with her Da in Diagon Alley and reading all of her textbooks long past her bedtime, a part of Greer didn’t believe she’d ever be standing here, in a beautiful Scottish castle, among students just like her.


And she really didn’t imagine that she’d be standing in front of a magical singing hat (because really, of all the absurd things?)



Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll torch myself if you can find

A more clever hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat



And I can cap them all.


Log ago, and far away in a land across the sea

There lived four great wizards, yes, the ones who created me

They founded this school for learning

the great magical arts,

 and though they were united,

they each had differences that gave the houses their start.


There first was Brave Old Gryffindor,

who valued daring and nerve

If you belonged to Gryffindor

the higher purpose you did serve.


Next was Wise old Ravenclaw

who believed in knowledge and truth,

To be selected by her meant you had great wit and brains to boot.


Fair Hufflepuff believed in acceptance above all else,

and took all who were loyal at heart and believed in justice before oneself


Finally old Slytherin,

the trickiest of the bunch

He wanted those with ambition and creativity

Those with great cunning in his mind, were the ones who had a hunch.


These four houses yes, to one of them you do belong

it is my task to peep inside your heads,

Just after I finish my song.


Into one of these four houses 

each one of you shall go,

and remember that old prejudice

should be given no merit, nor room to grow.


The hat sunk into a deep bow as everyone around me clapped and cheered.


“What an odd old piece of fabric” a dark haired boy with glasses whispered next to me. I smothered a laugh, as Professor Longbottom had begun calling people up to be sorted.


“Given its age, I think we can chalk up its terrible rhyming to some form of dementia, don’t you think?” I whispered back, wanting to make him laugh.


The boy turned to me and grinned, letting me have a full look at him. He was slightly shorter than me (I was already quite tall for my age), and despite my initial impression, his unruly dark hair had natural streaks of red, as though someone had carelessly blended the two shades together. He also had a large freckle under his left eye, which was a deep shade of emerald.


“I’m Albus, but everyone calls me Al.” He said extending a hand. I took it and gave it a firm shake.


“Greer Faulkner. People usually just call me Greer.” I said grinning back.


“What house do you think you’ll end up in?” Al asked, dropping her hand.


“I don’t know. That barmy song is the only description I’ve ever heard of them, except a few mentions in our textbooks. What do you think?” I asked, hoping he knew more.


“Well my whole family’s been in Gryffindor, so I think that’s where I’ll be.” Al said, though he looked rather ill, as though he was perhaps more unsure of his fate than he let on. Before I could question him further he added quickly, “What house were your parents in?”


“Oh, me Da’s a muggle, and so was me Mum.” I said, not thinking much of it.


“Oh, so at least you won’t be in-”


“Faulkner, Greer!” Professor Longbottom called. I gulped.


“Good luck Greer.” Al said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it briefly. I was shocked at the contact, but smiled at him briefly before walking up and taking my seat on the rickety old stool.


Professor Longbottom smiled at me and approached with the dirty looking old hat.


“Nothing to fear from this thing Ms. Faulkner” He said kindly before dropping the hat over my ears. The world went dark, and I was hit with the smell of old parchment and dry earth. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.


“Dear dear, you're too kind.” The hat said in my mind. Bollux. It could hear my thoughts.


“And with a mouth like that, you’re bound to get in trouble, aren’t you my young Scott?” I blushed, but the sorting hat merely gave a wheezy chuckle. 


“Now let me see… plenty of daring and courage I see… extremely loyal but not quite Hufflepuff material. You’re teeth are just a bit to sharp for that… Definitely not a Ravenclaw you’d be bored stiff… Gryffindor and Slytherin would suit you just fine, but which one?” I thought about it, as the sorting hat continued to mull.


“Mr. Sorting hat?” I asked, catching it’s attention.


“Yes Child?” it said.


“From what I understand, which isn’t much admittedly, Slytherin and Gryffindor seem quite similar.” I said simply.


The hat laughed. “There are many a wizard who disagree, but I’m curious. What makes you say that?” The hat wondered, almost condescendingly.


“Well, ambition can’t be accomplished without a certain amount of nerve, can it? and Courage is a great quality and all, but it’s rather dangerous to rely on that alone with no plan or course of action. It seems to me that the two kind of balance each other out, do they not?” I wondered.


“Well well child. You certainly are here to shake things up, aren't you? And you’re a muggle born I see?” I nodded, making the hat teeter slightly.


“Very well. I shall give you a choice. You could either be in Gryffindor, where people will accept you and your muggle lineage without question, and have a very comfortable home. Or you could be in slytherin, where things will be a great deal more challenging, but you would have a chance to change things for the better. What do you say?” the hat posed. I paused, wondering what the hat meant.


“I don’t fully understand what you mean…?” I asked hesitantly. The hat stayed silent.


“But I think I’d rather help change things for the better than simply be comfortable.” 


I could feel the hat grin.



“A noble choice my dear. Good luck to you, and know this: Slytherin may not feel like home all the time, but it truly is where you belong.” 


I pondered that, wondering what exactly I had just gotten myself into.


“SLYTHERIN!” The hat bellowed.


And thus Greer Faulkner became the first ever Muggle Born in Slytherin House.






Five years later…


“Come ON, Da, or we’re going to miss the bloody train!” I yelled behind me as I heaved my trunk onto a trolley. Da came running up behind me, plunking my cat Lady Catherine’s (yes, she has a title) cage on top along with my school bag and a giant duffle.


“Keep the heid, child, It would go a great faster if ye didnae have so much stuff!” My father drawled in his thick Scottish accent, but his smile was still in place, so I knew he was’t really complaining.


I grinned at him before turning and hurrying towards the platform entrance. I paused about five feet from it so Da could grip my arm and we both took it at a jog.


With a woosh we appeared on the other side grinning like fools.


“ I do get a right good thrill out of that bit o’ trickery.” He said grinning, I laughed and helped him unload my things next to all the other trunks and cages.


“Well this is goodbye until Christmas. Ye promise to write?” Da said, gripping me by the shoulders. Though I was tall, at 5’7, I still had to look up at him. His red hair was a little grayer, but he looked the same as always, with his tan face and wire frame spectacles.


“Every week Da. And you’ll have Annie and Patsy to keep you company, you’ll hardly even miss me.” I said, referencing our cook and dog respectively.


“I always miss ye, ye numpty.” He said pulling me in for a hug. I smiled and returned it, already missing him and home.


“Don’t let those boggy headed housemates of yours get ye, all right?” He said pulling back.


“Don’t worry Da, I can fend for meself.” I said grinning. He patted my hair.


“I know, I raised you right didnae I? No daughter of mine falls prey to a few Nancy boy British magicians.” Da said laughing. I grinned.


“Only when those Nancy boy British magicians bribe her with chocolate.” Said a cheeky voice behind me. 


“Scorpius, me boy!” Da said. I turned around and rolled my eyes at the blonde as he greeted my father.


“You saw each other last week and you act as though its been a year!” I said disbelievingly as they heartily clasped hands.


“Yeah, well I am the closest thing Mr. Faulkner has to a son, since you came out the wrong way, now aren’t I?” He said wickedly, pulling me in for a bone crushing hug before I could smack him. 


“Whatever makes you happy Scor. Alright Da we better be off, the train’s about to leave.” I said.


We hugged once more and exchanged promises to write before Scorpius and I boarded the train.


“Bollux, I think I forgot that bloody pin at home again this year.” Scorpius said, checking his pockets frantically as we searched for an empty compartment. I rolled my eyes.


“Honestly, who in Merlin’s name made you a prefect?” I said, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the empty compartment I’d found.


“Me? I’m unpopular by choice deary. The same cannot be said about you, and you’re the best prospect for head girl.” He said cheekily, collapsing into a seat. I rolled my eyes, but winced a bit internally.


Well. He wasn’t wrong.

What that barmy hat failed to mention all those years ago, when I made my decision, was that Slytherin wasn’t just for the ambitious and creative.


It was for all the bloody purebloods.


I presented quite the conundrum for my poor fellow Slytherins. On the one hand, one you're a Slytherin, you’re immediately granted equal respect and reverence from all house mates; serpents look after their own. On the other hand, many of the sacred 28 families still ruled Slytherin, and weren’t keen on having me as a house mate. My first year included some dodging of jinxes, and ultimately proving my worth to the house. I achieved high marks (and twelve OWLS), was named a prefect last year and mostly kept my head down, and most of my house grew used to me in time, though no one was particularly friendly. 


People in other houses outright feared me though, and Scorpius. The idea was that I must be especially wicked to be put in Slytherin despite my blood status.As for Scorpius, most people still widely feared the Malfoy name, despite the fact that they had tamed their views greatly since the war, and since Scor’s mum became a member of the family.


“Oh your bums out the windae! You’re unpopular because you’re a right git.” I said, sticking out my tongue.


“Merlin Greer, every time you go home you come back sounding like a ‘wee lassie from Edinburgh’. Seriously, I have no idea what you just said.” He said ruffling my hair. I smacked his hand away from my crazy golden curls.


“My accent’s always been thick ye prat. And it means you’re talking out o’ your arse. Now hand over my bag so I can duplicate the badge for you.” I said. Scorpius grinned and chucked my bag at me before moving to the other bench and stretching out.


“We’ve got about an hour until the meeting. You reading anything good?” Scorpius said, grabbing my bag from where I’d put it at my feet.


“Yes, but you won’t like it.” I said, unpinning my prefects badge from my chest. Despite the uproar from my house mates when it was announced I won out over better, pureblood candidates, I quite liked being prefect. It made me feel like I was making some sort of difference, even if it just meant now I could hand out detentions to the nastier Slytherins, and have a hand and keeping the damned Gryffindors in check.


“Not another bloody Jane Austen book. Haven’t you gotten sick of this rubbish?” He said holding up my battered copy of Pride and Prejudice.


“No I haven’t, you little scunner. Now here, I’ll trade you.” I said tossing him a perfect duplicate of my badge. He tossed my book back at me and I caught it with a glare.


“Well I forgot my book in my trunk so I need something to do. Can I braid your hair?” Scorpius asked. For some ungodly reason, Scorpius was obsessed with my untamable mane of blonde curls. It wasn’t ever frizzy, thank Merlin, but It was voluminous in size and reached a bit below my mid back, and my bum if it was straightened.


“Fine. But nothing crazy, we’ll have to go the meeting soon and I’d rather not resemble the whomping willow.” I said grumpily. Scorpius grinned and sat behind me on the bench, gathering my hair into his hands. I sighed and opened my book, eager to pass the time.


“Oi, could you read aloud? I need background noise.”


Good Merlin.




“Sixth year prefects, if you could sit over there!” Chrissy Bones yelled, already looking frazzled. 


“Good lord who made Bones head girl? Lass is more jumpy than a niffler in a Gringotts vault.” I whispered to Scorpius, who gave a snort of appreciation. Someone behind us laughed as well, and we both turned to be faced with Albus Potter.


I froze.


“Er… Sorry. It was funny.” Albus said uncomfortably. I blushed and looked anywhere but at him.


“Not that funny.” Scorpius said glaring before turning me around to face the front again. He led me to chairs far away from Potter. I shook myself, trying to get a grip.


“Are you ever going to get over your Potter Paralysis?” Scorpius asked, patting my shoulder.


Again, he wasn’t wrong (though really, he has to be at some point in his life). 


Ever since first year, I avoided Potter like the plague. I had thought we could be friends, but I had turned out to be dead wrong. It was infuriating that I could keep my calm around anyone else, but whenever I was confronted with Potter I always froze solid.


“Only when you get over your Weasley Whinging.” I teased, poking him in the side. Scorpius blushed.


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said grumpily, crossing his arms.


“Oh cac- shlubhal.” I said smiling. Scorpius threw his hands up in exasperation.


“Will you ever speak English? BRITISH ENGLISH?” He said to the ceiling.


“You have held a torch for that lass since second year!” I said, poking him some more. He batted me off.


“Have not.” 


“Have to.”


“Have not!”




“Are you two quite finished?” Chrissy said pointedly, hands on her hips. Both of us blushed.


“Er sorry Chrissy. Carry on then.” I said, barely concealing a smirk. Scorpius had no such ambitions and was openly chuckling, which only served to make Chrissy look even more tomato colored.


“All right lets get started!” Ethan Boot, the new Head Boy jumped in and saved us from a lecture on proper prefect behavior.


“We decided, since inter house cooperation has been… tricky the past few years,” Chrissy said delicately, looking pointedly at the Gryffindor and Slytherins in the room. I rolled my eyes. 


“That patrol pairs will be made up of different houses.Prefects set an example to the rest of their houses on proper behavior, and as you are all in a position of high esteem, you need to be the standard to which your house mates look up to.” It was very hard to keep a straight face during Chrissy’s speech, as most of our house mates would rather ride an angry hippogriff than look to Scorpius and I as an example of excellence. Like I said, they tolerate us, both we’re both seen as quite the embarrassment.


“As usual You may not trade partners for any reason, unless you need a substitute when ill.” Chrissy said in a final tone. I squirmed. The only person I ever talk to at school was Scorpius, and the same was true of him.


“This is not going to be fun.” Scorpius said, tipping his head back as though he had a headache.


“Problem Malfoy?” Boot asked, staring him down. I kicked Scorpius in the shin to keep his mouth in check.


“Nope. Everything is just peachy Boot.” Scor said, grinning stupidly at the lad.


Good Gracious.


“Your pairs will be by year, so I’ll just read them off. Fifth year patrol pairs will be in charge of the first years, and you will remain in your house pairings for this task only. Seventh years you will take the watch on the train and sixth years, you will have the first night of patrols which will not start until Monday evening.” Chrissy said. She withdrew a list from the purse at her feet and began matching up the fifth years.


“She’s going to stick us both with Gryffindors isn’t she?” Scorpius said, nerves evident in the crease of his brow. My own nerves only just then took root in my stomach. That would mean-


“They can’t possibly-!” I whispered in anger. 


“Scorpius, you’re partner is Rose Weasley and Albus, you’ll take Greer Faulkner.”


Saints preserve us.







Author's Note:




Hello there! I started this story a long time ago and it was origianlly going in a very different direction. However after the cursed child came out, I kind of stopped fan fiction, had to do a little soul searching (as the play felt utterly ridiculous NO OFFENSE I still love you JK Rowling) and ultimately decided that I still wanted to write. The whole point of fan fiction is to play with a world that we all love, and I am too much in love with the idea of Greer Faulkner to give up now. I am very dedicated to tell her story, and I'm excited to see what happens! Please read and review, I will answer you, and i hope you enjoy :)






1/29/18: IF you read previously that you shouldn't read on, DISREGARD. Everything is there, in order, and waiting for you to read!


Thanks, and love to all fellow HP nerds


Abby Rose




P.S. All things recognizable belong to JK Rowling, including parts of the Sorting Hat song

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