Sorting Lucifer

The Sorting Hat settled low over Lucifer's head, smashing his curls down into his eyes. He hardly dared breathe. He couldn't be in Slytherin. He couldn't be like his Dad, but his heart raced so fast that it felt like it could escape his chest at the thought of what his Dad would do if he wasn't sorted into Slytherin.

"No, not Slytherin for you, my boy," said the Hat gently. "Oh, you could be great there, grow up to challenge your Father even."

Lucifer felt sick at the idea of challenging his Father. He clutched his robes tighter around him as the feeling settled down and that spark of cold fury at his Father's treatment spread through him again. Who would protect all his little brothers and sisters now with him sent away? He thought of that rush of power that had left him the last time his Father had punished them. He had to learn to control his powers to be any real use to the others, but how could he abandon them for so long?

"You are a brave one, aren't you? Gryffindor could hone that into a warrior the likes of which haven't been seen since Godric himself."

Something flickered inside him. Yes. He could be useful. A warrior. A protector. Brave enough to save his brothers and sisters like his Mum always told him.

"Now there is the heart of the matter, child. You would be a shining star as a warrior, but that anger would consume you. There is only one house that will allow you to become balanced. Warrior. Protector. Worthy. You are going to-"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat was yanked from his head, but Lucifer sat frozen on the stool. Amenadiel glared at him from the Slytherin table. No doubt, Father would know of this disappointment before the night was over.

"Go on to your table, Lucifer." The teacher's voice was softer than he'd heard her speak before.

Hufflepuff... And Father… Mum? What would Mum say? What would she do? He shuddered, remembering the last time he had failed her. A hand touched his shoulder and he shied away.

A kind, round face appeared in his line of sight. "Lucifer. Come on over to our table now, dear, and have a sip of pumpkin juice. We can talk about it after dinner."

He searched her eyes for what she wanted from him, and found nothing he understood. No embarrassment that he was causing a delay, no disappointment with his failures, just concern. He looked away quickly. It confused him. What should he do when he didn't understand what she wanted from him? She took a step back and held her hand out to him. She wanted him to take it. That much he could understand, so he placed his hand in hers and let her lead him.

Notes: Thank you to Obliobla for beta reading this story.