The Sorting of Victoire Weasley
The sheer volume of the stone fortress in front of my eyes was astounding. I knew everything there was to know about Hogwarts. I had committed to memory every trick step and the paths of all the moving staircases. I could recite the four houses and their founders, I'd memorized every benign fact of information that there was to know. The only thing I had not been prepared for was just how massive my new home would be. Pointed turrets jutted up straight into the cloudy sky. A vast lake stretched in front of me, it's gray waters lapping at the cobblestone walkway my fellow first years and myself were standing on. Boats were strung precariously along the sides of the dock, each bobbing gently in the water.
In the distance, I could see the shrouded shape of the boat house, far on the opposite shore. Tentatively I crept forward, as did a few other of my fellow students, to peer inside one of the boats. Each ship was wood, with two solid benches long enough to hold two small first years apiece. Aside from a coil of rope lying in a neat pile in the middle of the boat, the insides were completely bare.
The bravest of the first years, a group that included me and four others, were the first to step foot into the boats. Soon after, the rush to claim seats next to newly found friends began. The boats rocked more violently as students clambered inside. Seated next to me was a pale haired boy with wide blue eyes. I turned to face him as we waited for the boats to calm themselves once more. "I'm Victoire Weasley, It's a pleasure to meet you..." I held out my hand.
"Lysander, Lysander Scamander." He shook the proffered hand before dropping it gently. "My brother Lorcan, he's just over there, next to that bloke with curly red hair." He gestured towards his twin with a pale hand. "Lorcan wants to be a Ravenclaw, like mum. But I'd rather be a Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff's are a rather unassuming lot I've heard and often overlooked. I think I'd fit nicely with folks like that. Which house are you aiming for?"
I mulled over his question. The obvious answer was Gryffindor; that was where my dad had been sorted, as well as the rest of his family. Mum had been a Beauxbaton's witch. But I didn't want to follow the tradition of my family, so I answered with a confident, "Ravenclaw." Lysander nodded and turned his wide eyed gaze back toward the castle looming over the dark lake. Stars were begin to reveal themselves in the haze of the velvet sky. They shone dimly through the gray blanket of clouds coating the atmosphere.
The boats moved forward with a small jolt, heading slowly towards the opposite shore, amidst astonished gasps of those less informed than I. Of course the boats moved of their own accord. Did they really expect the school to make us row them by ourselves? Surely not.
The boats slipped through the glassy water quietly, without raising ripples in the smooth surface. Minutes turned into countless moments of anticipation as we slipped ever closer to Hogwarts. Lysander was fidgeting next to me, whether out of excitement, nerves, expectation or a combination of all three I didn't know.
It seemed to me as if ages had slipped by before the boats slowly creaked their way to a stop at the docks. The castle loomed larger than life now, and I wondered briefly how I would keep from getting lost once inside.
I drank in every sight I could as we were ushered into a wide open space, easily big enough to fit my family's house comfortably inside. We only lingered for a few moments, before being herded through large double doors and into the great hall.
The ceiling was smattered with pinpricks of white light, various shades of black, navy, and gray painted across the mock sky. The absolute reality of it all took my breathe away and, for a moment, I lost myself in the imaginary heavens.
I was startled out of the reverie by the beginning of the sorting, starting with "Astair, Reginald." Everyone was shifting nervously, waiting for their name to be called. I heard, "Scamander, Lorcan," and then "Scamander, Lysander," and watched as each was sorted into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively.
"Vittan, Margaret," was declared a Gryffindor, a sharp "Weasley, Victoire," rang across the silent hall. The whispers began as the first Weasley to attend Hogwarts since the end of the war sat on the stool to be sorted. The ragged hat was placed upon my head and the brim covered my view of the outside world, leaving me to wait in darkness.
When the hat started to speak, I wasn't at all surprised. I had heard of this many times from my numerous Uncles. The hat quietly sifted through the contents of my mind for a few moments, weighing each of my attributes against each house.
Intelligence and a thirst for new knowledge, the mark of a Ravenclaw.
Humility and no qualms concerning hard work, Hufflepuff worthy.
Ambitious and anxious to prove to the world that I was not just a Weasley, I was Victoire Weasley, thoughts expected in a potential Slytherin.
The hat rested on Gryffindor for the barest of moments. Please, please not Gryffindor. Anywhere but Gryffindor. I want to break traditions, not uphold them. The hat seemed mildly amused by my thoughts.
I sat perfectly still on the three legged stool, trying to restrain my impatience as the hat poked and prodded at my mind as he tried to tug an answer from my brain. Several long moments later the fruits of his labor were announced, ringing oddly against my ears.
"SLYTHERIN!" The hat's parting words, whispering in the corners of my mind, stayed with me, even as light flooded my eyes, revealing rows of shocked students.
Prove you are different. Prove it to your family. Prove it to the world. Prove it to yourself.
And that's just what I was going to do.
