The Last Lion

Disclaimer 1: This is fanfic. That means I do not own any of it. I just borrow it to play with for a little while and let people see the pathetic results if they really want to.

Disclaimer 2: I'm not making any money from it. It's just for fun.

Disclaimer 3: What isn't borrowed is all made up. None of this is real or most likely at all realistic. Please don't trust any of the information in here. Most likely you know more about whatever I'm writing about than I do.

Disclaimer 4: Attitudes, views and opinions expressed by the characters or in the story are not necessarily those of the author. Even when writing Science Fiction or Fantasy I do not tend to attempt to create perfect/better worlds in which everybody gets a happy end ... or whatever is best for them. Please accept that some characters will have a bad ending or be unhappy.

Disclaimer 5: I intend no insult to anyone. If I offend anyone I'm very sorry. Please understand that it was an accident as I tend to be very clumsy in these things.

Disclaimer 6: If my characters' conversations seem odd or they appear to be talking past each other the latter might occasionally be intentional, but most likely it is an accident and I'm not aware that they are. It's just my bad communication skills.

A/N – This little plot hedgehog just popped up sometime last week and wouldn’t leave me alone. I had to write this in order to get rid of the little guy and be able to return to Runaway Dragon. It’s just a one shot, no further chapters, no sequels planned.

And here it is in French Le Dernier Lion translated by Jiou

The Last Lion

Michael arrived late at the station for the start of his seventh year. He boarded the Hogwarts Express without looking left or right. What was the use after all? All of his friends had graduated last year. It’d be a lonely seventh year.

He walked into the first available compartment and asked the two wide eyed first years whether he could sit with them. They nodded dumbly obviously not daring to talk to the much older student.

“So what house do you think you’ll be in?” he asked hoping to draw them out.

“Hufflepuff, just like my Dad.” said the little boy.

“Either Ravenclaw, like my Mum, or Slytherin, like my Dad, I suppose.” said the boy.

“No preference?” Michael asked him.

The little boy shook his head.

“Well, I’m a Gryffindor.” Michael stated.

The two nodded politely then turned back to their own conversation.

A very lonely seventh year.

Two of his Ravenclaw classmates walked by sometime during the journey. They greeted Michael in passing. A quick careless hello, probably forgotten before they were fully out of his sight.

A sixth year Hufflepuff stopped by trying to be nice.

“There are three Weasleys starting this year, if I’ve seen correctly.” She told him with an encouraging smile. “Remember Head Girl Ginny Weasley?”

Of course Michael remembered the head girl from his second year. Ginny had been the last Gryffindor to earn that honour. He smiled bravely back at the Hufflepuff. Professor McGonagall had suggested him for the position of head boy, but a Ravenclaw had gotten it instead.

“So who got head girl this year?” he asked. “Hufflepuff or Slytherin.”

“Slytherin, but we’ve got big hopes for next year.”

The Hufflepuff talked a little longer, then left Michael to his misery.

Three Weasleys, she’d said. Weasleys always had been Gryffindors.

Michael tried to imagine showing three whirly little redheads around the school. It could be fun. He’d never really gotten to exercise his prefect’s duties before. Maybe, hopefully this year wouldn’t be all that bad after all.

A few hours later Michael entered the great hall in the midst of a crowd of chatting, happy students. He fought his way through to the Gryffindor table. It was hard going against the stream, but Michael had had a lot of practise.

Now where to sit? Until now he’d always just sat by Peter and Ivan, who he’d called his best friends. Not that they’d really been that close, but they’d accepted him and watched out for him most of the time. In return Michael had looked up to them and done whatever they’d asked him to. It had been fun too.

But Peter and Ivan had graduated last year.

So where to sit?

Michael finally decided on the seat Harry Potter had sat in during his own sorting. Those had been the glorious days of Gryffindor, when the great hero had sat right here!

Not that Michael had really known Harry Potter. After all he’d been a seventh year during Michael’s first year. But Michael did remember seeing him walk through the halls with his friends, sitting in the common room talking with Neville Longbottom, the prefect that had shown him to his dorm that long ago first day. He remembered Harry discussing Potions or Transfigurations problems with head girl Hermione Granger and celebrating another Quiddich victory with team captain Ron Weasley.

Three Weasleys this year.

What would they do about Quiddich, though? Except for himself, the team’s worst Chaser everybody had graduated last year. Michael stared at the empty chairs all around him. Would they allow the first years to play? Or would Gryffindor miss this year? Would there ever be a Gryffindor Quiddich team again, if they didn’t get one together this year?

There, the first years walked into the great hall behind Professor McGonagall, his head of house. While the sorting head sang its song Michael looked over the frightened children. Over there in the back: Three little redheads huddled together. That had to be them.

Michael looked over to Professor McGonagall. Their eyes met and she sent him one of her tight-lipped smiles. Most other people would probably have missed it, but to Michael who’d known her for seven years the message was obvious. He smiled back as encouraging as he could.

The song ended and Professor McGonagall started to call up the first years one by one. Once again Michael was reminded of his own sorting.

He’d been the seventh student to walk up to the stool, the first one for whom the hat had shouted out ‘Gryffindor!’ that day. The first and the last one. At first it had all seemed quite normal, but as the group of first years diminished more and more and the ranks of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws grew and grew and Michael still was the only first year at the Gryffindor table his fellow students had started getting nervous.

He remembered the eager attention they’d focused on the sorting, then the occasional odd looks they’d shot towards him. Then the other houses had begun to notice and he’d gotten odd looks even from the head table.

“Slytherin!” the hat announced for the first student, then: “Hufflepuff!” and again “Slytherin!”

Two Ravenclaws followed by another Hufflepuff, a Slytherin, Ravenclaw, two Hufflepuffs.

The day after Michael’s sorting Professor McGonagall had handed him his schedule and said not to worry. Sometimes the sorting did end up being very uneven and he’d be sure to find friends among the second years and next year’s first years. And she’d made sure he had most of his classes with the Hufflepuffs. He’d make friends in his own year there.

Unfortunately it hadn’t quite worked out like that.

Another Slytherin, then two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw were greeted by their new houses.

There hadn’t been any new Gryffindors the year after his sorting, nor the year after that, nor after that. The crowd in the Gryffindor common room had grown smaller with each year, but at first Michael hadn’t minded that much. It was nice to have some room and he had Peter and Ivan, even though he’d never gotten close with any of his year mates. McGonagall had kept promising them next year, next year there’d be new Gryffindors, but it hadn’t happened.

Two Ravenclaws, a Slytherin, a Hufflepuff.

Michael had become a prefect, because there was nobody else to take the position, a chaser, because the last two prefects last year had refused and Miranda had been the worst flyer Hogwarts had seen in this generation. Not much of an achievement, was it?

A Slytherin, a Hufflepuff, another Slytherin.

“Weasley, Adriana!” Professor McGonagall finally read out.

Finally! Finally! Weasleys were always in Gryffindor.

There was a long silence until the hat finally decided on “Hufflepuff!”

No! No! This couldn’t be.

But then of course unusual houses popped up in every family.

“Weasley, Araminta!” Professor McGonagall called out her voice not even wavering the slightest bit.

This one had to be a Gryffindor! But just looking at her as she walked up to the stool Michael’s heart sank. She looked just like Adriana. Identical twins were usually sorted into the same house.

Of course there were exceptions.

The hat once again took its time to choose.

“Slytherin!” it announced in the end.

This time even McGonagall had to wait a moment until she had her voice back under control.

“Weasley, Theodor!” It sounded a little hesitant to Michael.

What if the sorting hat was broken? What if it couldn’t say Gryffindor anymore? But it had mentioned the house in its song!

This time the sorting hat made its decision quite easily.

“Ravenclaw!” it shouted after only a moment.

Somehow Professor McGonagall finished the sorting ceremony, but her voice sounded empty and defeated. Somehow headmaster Dumbledore held his speech, but there was no twinkle in his eyes this time.

Or did it just seem like that to Michael? Or maybe, maybe ... Could all this be just a dream? Could it be that any moment Michael would wake up and go to Kings Cross Station for his first journey to Hogwarts?

Could it be? Or was he really the very last Gryffindor?

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