Chapter 1 – The Journey Ahead
As Dylan Thompson stepped out of the black Rolls-Royce and onto the busy streets of London she couldn't help but feel out of place. The streets of Paris were completely different to the busy hustle and bustle of England.
Pedestrians raced back and forth, not even blinking an eye at the car she'd just exited, and while her chauffeur helped her unload her bags, the cars zipped past them with their horns blaring.
Nobody spared her a second glance, and that was the way Dylan Thompson preferred it. Unfortunately her uncle insisted she take a ministry car; obviously he thought she enjoyed being the center of attention. Dylan glared at the small flags that waved merrily on the bonnet. Muggles really are unobservant creatures.
"Will you be all right, miss?" her escort asked. "I will find you a trolley so you don't have to carry that heavy trunk."
Dylan rolled her eyes. I wouldn't want to break a nail, she thought sarcastically. Dylan felt refreshed to be back where no one knew who she was. She didn't have people fawning all over her, pretending to be a friend while they whispered maliciously behind her back. It really was sickening to know how underhanded some people could be.
She had taken great care this morning in choosing suitable clothes; she didn't want to stand out on her first day of school. A simple white button-up shirt and blue jeans was all she needed to get through her day; her uniform was neatly packed inside her luggage. Dylan had gone to great lengths to conceal her long blonde hair under a simple black beret, a parting gift from France.
Dylan followed her companion into the large walls of London Station, realizing that things were much more hurried in here than out on the streets. Young mothers tried desperately to usher crying children onto trains, businessmen dashed across platforms while over the P.A. system a tired voice called the trains arriving and departing.
Between platforms nine and ten, Dylan glanced around anxiously. Where is platform nine and ten?
Her guide continued to dart through the crowds, Dylan struggled to follow him with her eyes. Somebody bumped into her, muttering an apology before scurrying off again. She wasn't one to get lost very easily, however at the moment she was having trouble differentiating left from right.
"Dylan, over this way please." She followed the familiar voice until she emerged from the crowds in front of a large brick wall. "Here you go, now you understand what to do? I must dash off now, have a good year and don't forget to write to your uncle." Before Dylan had a chance to reply her attendant had already disappeared from view.
Well, here goes nothing. She cautiously scanned the surrounding area, checking to make sure no one was staring at her. Dylan took a hold of her trolley, shut her eyes and, taking a deep breath, leaned against the barrier.
When she opened her eyes she was staring at the same wall though the noise had changed drastically. She turned her head and stared in amazement at the bright red steam engine that glinted happily in the sunlight.
Several cats raced across her path as she dragged her trolley to the end carriage. Dylan hoped not all the compartments were taken yet; she didn't particularly feel like introducing herself to the other students until she was settled in.
Everybody seemed to be talking to one person or another, comparing broomsticks, giggling over magazines or saying goodbye to their parents. It almost made Dylan wish she had someone to talk to. She shook her head bitterly. "Almost," she muttered.
Dylan hoisted her trunk into the carriage none-too-gently and dragged it the rest of the way down to the last compartment. Glancing inside she was pleased to find it unoccupied and wasted no time setting her trunk inside.
Wiping her palms on her jeans she sighed wearily. Dylan glanced down at her watch and grimaced, it was only eight forty-five. The train doesn't leave until nine, she thought unhappily. Dylan hated to wait; it ranked number three on her 'top five' list.
She slumped down into the chair and stared up at the ceiling. Perhaps I can sleep for most of the trip. Dylan stared out the window, if the grey sky was anything to go by, it was going to rain. Just my luck, she sighed heavily.
"Excuse me?" a small voice asked from the door. "May I? All the other compartments are full." The voice belonged to a small girl with pigtails. A first year… Dylan's mind assessed the young girl and the possibility of being recognized.
"Sure," she muttered. "Be my guest." Dylan motioned for the girl to take a seat, praying silently that the girl would just sit there silently.
"Are you a Gryffindor? I want to be in Gryffindor," the girl babbled excitedly. "Everyone's really nice there. My dad was in Gryffindor, and my grandfather was in Gryffindor, it's like a tradition."
Dylan tried hard not to groan, I get stuck with Ms. Chatterbox. She smiled at the girl, trying hard not to gag, the girl would never know Dylan wasn't listening; she had had too much practice at it.
The girl continued her tirade about how great Gryffindor would be, and what she would do on the holidays. Dylan felt herself being pushed gently back into the seat. At least we're moving now; I'll find an excuse to leave as soon as I can.
"What's your name?" the girl asked quietly.
Dylan stared at the girl curiously. "Why do you want to know?" she said quietly.
"It's just the polite thing to do. My name is Arienne Baltimore, I'm from Sussex. I was so excited when I got my letter, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world." Dylan was glad the girl didn't know how to keep silent; at least Dylan wouldn't have to mention anything about her family.
Several hours later and Arienne Baltimore was still rambling about how happy her family was, and what career path she wanted to take when she finished school. Dylan's mind felt as if it would explode, she was cooped up inside a carriage with a girl who didn't know the meaning of 'shut up'.
"Liquorice wands, pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs," an elderly voice called from the aisles. "Anything from the trolley, girls," An elderly woman opened their door and glanced at the two.
"No, thank you," Dylan replied quietly.
"Oh, yes please," Arienne jumped out of her seat and started buying whatever she could lay her hands on.
At least she's silent. Dylan rubbed her face wearily, stifling a yawn. Please be too hungry to talk, she prayed.
Fortunately, Arienne must have realized Dylan was tired. "I'll leave you alone; I must go and find my friends." Arienne strolled to the door, gave Dylan one last wave before merrily skipping off.
Dylan was finally by herself once again, and this time she wasted no more time resting back against the seat. She glanced at her watch once again, how long does this trip take? It was already four o'clock and Dylan was beginning to regret not buying anything from the old lady.
To take her mind off food, Dylan took her uniform out of her trunk and, after locking the compartment door, began to change. She wasn't overly impressed with her plain black robes; Beauxbaton's had been a much more elegant aquamarine silk.
She took her beret off and shook her hair loose, blonde tendrils fell across her face. Dylan began brushing it carefully and pulled it back into a high ponytail; it was far too heavy to leave it hanging around her shoulders for long periods of time.
Dylan pulled out her compact and stared at herself in the mirror. Her clear blue eyes staring at herself distastefully as she touched up her lip gloss. She hated the type of girls who always cared about their looks, yet here she was checking her makeup and worrying about her hair. It's not like I know anybody here to impress. She closed the compact angrily and stashed it back into the trunk; there was no reason for makeup at this school. Unlike Beauxbaton's where everyday was a beauty pageant, Dylan was quite sure Hogwarts was focused more on the academic; not that she was good at that either.
Dylan had to remind herself why she chose to come to Hogwarts, then realized she was better off here with average grades and no friends, than at the snooty French school with backstabbing friends and failing 'how to become a proper lady'.
She would just have to start from scratch, find new friends, work hard to get good grades and keep her secrets to herself from now on.
A knock sounded on the door and Dylan made her way slowly to unlock it. Arienne stood there, grinning sweetly up at her. "I have to get changed," she ran past Dylan and started pulling on her uniform. Dylan closed the door and kept her eyes averted until Arienne's laugh made her spin around. "Why are you standing there? Are you embarrassed?"
Dylan shook her head. "It's polite. A lady knows when to give privacy," Dylan couldn't believe that trash spouted from her mouth. Yeah, a lady, she thought in amusement. "I think I'll take a walk, I'm not sure how much longer we have."
As she strolled up the aisle she couldn't help but peek into the other compartments, everybody seemed to be having some fun, comparing holiday stories. Dylan reached the front of the train and began to grow restless, if she turned around now she'd end up back in the carriage with Arienne, the blabbermouth.
She glanced into the carriage and saw many older looking teens all laughing and chattering. Dylan shook her head, I can't just stand here, she turned around and headed back towards her carriage.
The compartment door was open and voices were floating out into the corridor. "What do you think you're up to, pipsqueak?" a shrill voice asked.
As Dylan rounded the corner, making sure she wasn't seen she sized up the occupants in her compartment. Arienne was sitting quietly in the corner while three older students began eating all her sweets. Two rather large looking males scoffed appreciatively as a rather plain looking girl watched them.
"Excuse me?" Dylan said softly as she entered into the room.
The girl's head shot up and stared at the girl in confusion. "Can I help you?" she spat.
Dylan couldn't believe she was about to stick up for Arienne. "This is my compartment," she said slowly trying hard to keep her accent hidden. "I would appreciate it if you found your own room."
The girl laughed coldly. "Listen, sweetheart, I don't know who you are but I like it in here and don't feel like leaving. I haven't seen you around before. What's your name?"
Dylan shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the girls question. "Please leave, I'm asking you nicely."
Arienne stared at Dylan in surprise. "She's a friend of my sister's; I don't mind that they are here." Arienne shot the other girl a smile. "Pansy where is Renae?"
Dylan assumed Pansy was the other girl and stared at her quietly. Pansy had short black hair, pale skin and a slightly squished looking face. Sighing heavily, Dylan sat in the seat next to Arienne, thankful they were entertaining themselves and had forgotten Dylan hadn't answered Pansy's question.
The train ground to a halt and the others left the compartment without another glance at Dylan. She sighed, I'm almost there. Then I can relax.
She followed the others out onto the platform and as they all stepped into carriages Dylan couldn't help but stare. Thestrals, is this a joke? The black skeletal horses stomped their hooves and shook their manes impatiently. Dylan blinked and stared again. This can't be possible.
As the first few carriages began to move, not wishing to be left behind, Dylan quickly raced into the closest one. There were only two other occupants, they stared in shock for a moment before turning their attention back to the other, chattering between themselves excitedly.
The carriage rocked back and forth gently and Dylan stared out the window to give the couple opposite her some privacy. The scenery didn't vary much, in truth Dylan couldn't see anything in the dark, however from the clacking sound of the hooves they were traveling along a stone path. Several lamps revealed a few houses and stores; they seemed to be passing through a small village which suddenly changed to a thick forest.
The night air was pleasantly cool and Dylan could smell pine and lavender. Over the creaking of the old carriages she could hear cicadas and what she could safely assume was an owl.
As the carriage stopped Dylan let herself out, glad to be rid of the loving couple. There are some things that you just don't do… Dylan shook her head in amazement; she would never understand some people. She followed the masses up the stone steps and through the large wooden front doors. This is it, she thought excitedly.
Dylan couldn't believe her eyes. After all these years of wondering and waiting she was finally here. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had truly lived up to her expectations.
The resident ghosts shot unperturbed in and out through the stone walls, the Great Hall was laid out in the traditional manner. The long wooden house tables already full of students, the staff table was decorated in gold and silver to welcome the new students. Dumbledore sat in a large high-backed chair, which looked peculiarly like a throne. His blue eyes scanned the room ahead of him, stopping several times and sparkling brilliantly.
Several staff members were already seated at the table, some she recognized and some she didn't. Severus Snape belonged to the former group; though he had grown paler and thinner since the last time she had seen him. Though that didn't surprise her, twelve years will do that to a person. I doubt he would even know it's me.
Her mind recalled the last time they had seen each other, her foster parent's funeral. A child of six, she sat crying in the corner, receiving many unhappy looks from relatives and friends. Then Snape walked through the door, took one look at her face and walked over to her. "There's no point crying, it's not able to change anything." Then he'd given her a red rose and had left the building.
Dylan couldn't really blame him; he was never really close to her or her family. Though he'd been invited for family get-togethers and parties, he'd never shown up once. Why should his brother's funeral be any different, she mused.
Dylan looked up to see not the dusty old rafters of the ceiling she had anticipated, but an enormous reflection of the night sky. Several grey clouds swirled above gloomily, though no one seemed to mind. Even a spot of rain couldn't dampen the atmosphere in the room. Hundreds of floating candles lit the room, yet the students didn't seem to notice. Dylan silently vowed never to sit under one, just incase they decided to drip wax on her, or worse, to fall from their spots and light her on fire.
As more and more students began filing into the hall, Dylan decided to follow, making her way slowly towards the staff table. The headmaster's head shot quickly towards her as her small voice spoke up, "Uncle?"
Dumbledore's face broke out into a grin as he laid eyes on his niece for the first time in many years. "Dylan?" he said gleefully. "You look so grown up."
A stern-looking woman walked over at that moment, breaking up the cheerful reunion. "Professor, I don't mean to interrupt. However, the first years are ready, and the sorting ceremony should begin." Her tone was blunt and very stern, but her voice held a small hint of warmth.
Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, Minerva." He waited until the woman had walked away before continuing. "Dylan, you had better go and sit down now."
Dylan smiled. "I don't have a table. Where do you want me to sit?" She glanced around the hall quickly, checking for any empty seats.
When she had turned back, Dumbledore had his wand out and was putting the finishing touches on a chair to his right. "You may sit here tonight. I will sort you after the feast."
Dylan hesitantly walked around to sit next to him. As she did so, the Hall began to fill with whispers and she couldn't help but notice that more than one pair of eyes were focused on her. Dumbledore waited patiently until she finally took her seat before he motioned to the woman who was standing by the door. She was surrounded by a group of small scared looking children, not much older than ten. Even Arienne was pale and silent, that has to be a miracle.
The woman strode briskly into the middle of the room, as a single line of young pale faced students followed closely behind her. Dylan was instantly reminded of a mother duck and her ducklings, and had to quickly stifle a laugh. The woman stopped beside a three-legged stool, whose only occupant so far was a raggedy looking hat. One by one the woman called the names of the young students, whom walked to the stool, placed the hat on his or her head and then they were sorted into whatever house the hat yelled out.
All of this took Dylan by surprise for a moment. A talking hat wasn't something you came across everyday, even in a prestigious wizarding school. Beauxbaton's never had a talking hat to sort the houses. Nor did it have a hat that sang at the beginning of the ceremony. All you really had to do was turn up. They measured you, looked at your wand, checked your birth chart and read your palm. If after all that they still couldn't place you into a house, you were placed wherever they felt necessary.
Dylan thought hard for a moment. Where would she be placed? She felt neither courageous, nor resourceful. She definitely didn't consider herself loyal, and her former professors wouldn't go as far as calling her intelligent. As far as she could tell, none of the houses were for her.
"Baltimore, Arienne." Arienne raced over to the stool, almost tripping over her robes on the way. McGonagall placed the hat over Arienne's head.
For a moment, nothing happened. One minute went by, then another, followed swiftly by a loud booming voice. "Gryffindor!" The entire table at Gryffindor applauded and stamped, as the rest of the tables politely clapped along.
All but a few students, Dylan noted. A bunch of students by the far wall were huddled close together talking rather heatedly. Pansy, the girl from the train was leaning across the table talking to the two boulder-like males whom sat either side of a pale, overly arrogant looking male, who was talking irritably to the girl.
She turned back to watch the remaining students be sorted, applauding along with the tables. Secretly wondering where she would be sitting after tonight.
Dumbledore stood up majestically, beaming at all the students. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. I am pleased to see many old faces, and several newer ones. Before we begin our wonderful feast, I have a few announcements that need to be taken care of." He paused and looked at Dylan indecisively, before shaking his head. "First I would like to welcome our newest staff member, Professor Boller, whom shall be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts."
Polite applause sounded throughout the hall as a stern looking wizard stood slowly. He nodded once, glanced around the room, shot a brief smile at Dumbledore and returned to his seat. Dylan hoped the headmaster wouldn't introduce her, not yet at least. Let me settle in first, and then sit down there, with them… that way they can't find me. Dumbledore smiled before continuing on, as if he had heard her thoughts clearly.
"As always, the Forbidden forest is out of bounds to all students. Hogsmeade trips are not open to any first or second year students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me yet again to remind you that the use of Dung bombs, Fanged Frisbees and any other Zonko or Weasley products are not allowed within the school walls. Some of these items are dangerous and therefore banned. These items shall be confiscated from you if they are found in your possession. A complete list of banned objects can be found outside his office, if anyone is unsure about a product and would like to check it, please don't hesitate to confirm it with Mr. Filch." Dumbledore smiled broadly, staring around the room happily. "Now without further ado, let us eat."
Immediately, the tables were laden with plates of sausages, steaks, pasta, rice and bowls of steaming vegetables. There were jugs of water and pumpkin juice, mountains of bread rolls, and hundreds of roasted potatoes. Anything Dylan fancied was laid out in front of her, and as she looked on in amazement the other students began ladling their plates with food.
Dumbledore nudged her gently, lent over and whispered in her ear. "The trick is getting through it all." He sat back up and, after a quick wink coupled with a small smile, he turned his attention to his own plate of food.
Draco Malfoy tried hard not to yawn through the old codger's speech. He'd heard it all last year, and not surprisingly the year before that. It was always the same. Pansy was chattering away in his ear, and shockingly Crabbe and Goyle seemed riveted to her every word. He would never understand those two.
He shook his head and for the first time noticed a young blonde sitting silently next to the Headmaster. She seemed content with staring at her plate, rather than observing the students. Was she their new professor? He opened his mouth to mention this to the others but caught himself just as Dumbledore introduced Professor Boller, their new Defense professor. Here's hoping this one won't find the room, he thought sarcastically.
Since all the other professors were seated at the table, and Draco hadn't heard of another subject being introduced, the girl couldn't be a professor. So who is she, he wondered. Perhaps he would ask his father, someone in the Ministry was bound to know something about her.
Draco always joked about how easy it was to find out background information on a person if you had the right contacts. The fact of the matter was, when you had two pure-blooded, well-respected and extremely wealthy parents, one of whom works for the Ministry of Magic, you are privy to a lot of confidential information. Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, had a lot of old friends, some worked in different departments of the Ministry, some freelanced, but they all stayed in touch and divulged whatever information they could on the topic in question.
One friend was Severus Snape, Draco's potions professor. While Snape was moody and rather anti-social, Draco was his favorite student and was given special treatment whenever possible. In fact, Snape was Draco's head of house, it was not unusual for them to get together and talk most days, sharing stories about Lucius and the old times.
Draco looked over the blonde once again. She was fairly attractive; he could make out her opalescent skin and long blonde hair. The girl hadn't looked up from her plate yet, so her eyes remained a mystery. Her back was rigid in the chair; she looked somewhat uncomfortable, though he wasn't sure whether it was her posture, the seat or just being sat at the staff table in front of all the students.
She didn't look old enough to be a professor though. Draco looked at her smooth skin; the girl couldn't have been more than twenty. That's barely enough time to become a professor. Unless she was a bookworm like Granger, in which case she had no social life and had dreamed of this day since she was three. Once again Draco racked his brains for any mention of a new class. He couldn't be sure since he hadn't really listened to Dumble-bore's speech.
Draco mused for a moment about the possibility of the girl being someone's concubine, knowing full well this wasn't the case, but enjoying a good laugh anyway. Snape needs a good shag, he thought crudely.
His stomach gave a sharp jolt as the blonde looked up briefly into the headmaster's eyes, and for a brief second fire flew through his veins as the thought crossed his mind that maybe she was his whore! Millions of thoughts raced through his mind for a moment before he finally shook his head vigorously.
"Is everything all right, Draco?" Pansy crooned, making his stomach clench.
Draco groaned. He was sick and tired of putting up with her and her default teenage conversation. She was so boring, though Crabbe and Goyle seemed to hang onto her every word.
"I'm fine, Pansy," he grated through his teeth. He shot a glare in her general direction.
After hearing about his new life plan this summer, Draco was even less enthusiastic to hang out with her. His father had seemed content to mention the news of his engagement to Pansy only three days ago, believing his silence to be nothing more than anticipation. Yet the news of his betrothal had Draco less than pleased. Pansy on the other hand had wasted no time in letting the entire school know he was off the market.
Not that Draco was surprised, Pansy had always had a crush on him, and he couldn't really expect anything less from his father. Lucius Malfoy was always interfering in his life, trying to live Draco's life for him. His mother was a different story though. Draco admired her for putting up with her marriage for so long, and looking out for him whenever he needed her. However, this time she couldn't help him, and Draco couldn't help himself. He'd rather die than tell his father to sod off. Actually, he'd probably die if he told his father to sod off.
Draco didn't even notice the food that had appeared in front of him only moments beforehand. Pansy had stopped chatting away and was staring at him with a look of concern on her face. Draco quickly began filling his plate with whatever he could grab so he didn't have to answer any of her nagging questions.
Dessert rolled around, and Pansy began a new tirade about how fat she would be by the end of the year. Draco rolled his eyes, as he scooped a large portion of trifle onto his plate. He clenched his teeth almost painfully hard, not allowing himself the satisfaction of teasing her. There will be plenty of time for that. He smiled inwardly.
Dumbledore stood up several minutes later, and waited until all eyes were on him. "This concludes the sorting ceremony. I hope you're all feeling particularly exhausted because as you all know classes begin immediately tomorrow morning. Now, it's time for bed. Goodnight."
Draco watched in horror as the muggle-loving fool held his hand out for the young girl, and almost fell off his chair as she took it, standing gracefully. The girl smiled up into his face and as they walked out side-by-side Draco noticed she only came up to his shoulders. She was at least one-seventh his age. He was old enough to be her grandfather, yet Dumbledore's hand had still found her waist. Strangely enough, Draco seemed to be the only one to notice.
As he turned to leave, however, Draco noticed another student lingering behind. The boy's head remained down and Draco slowly sauntered over towards him. "Bugger off, Malfoy," the boy spoke without raising his head. "I'm not in the mood tonight."
"What's wrong, Potter? Granger doesn't like you anymore?" Draco sneered at the boy, inwardly laughing at his stupid lightning-shaped scar, his messy hair and his yet-again broken glasses. Pathetic, he thought angrily.
The boy stood up slowly, his eyes remained focused on the table. It wasn't until he was completely straight did he lift his head to meet Draco's gaze. "How about you keep your slimy nose out of my business, Malfoy, or I shall do it for you."
Draco opened his mouth to reply, but the boy just turned and walked off. Bloody Potter. One day he'll get what's coming to him.
Dylan glanced around Dumbledore's office, amazed with all his gadgets and shelves full of ancient tomes. In the far corner stood a large wooden perch obviously belonging to Dumbledore's beloved pet phoenix, Dylan glanced around the room for Fawkes, but couldn't find him anywhere. On the other side of the room sat his desk, parchment and inkpots cluttered the top leaving only a few inches of space for him to use comfortably.
"Don't you ever get sick of reading, uncle?" Dylan laughed. She flicked through the pages of a thick book taking little notice of what was written there.
"Books give us knowledge and wisdom; it allows us to see into things that would be impossible otherwise. They feed our brains and nurture our curiosity. Without these, life would be a lot more hectic." Dumbledore strolled over to a bookshelf, and slowly pulled down the tattered hat she had seen previously that evening.
"What happens if I don't get sorted?" Dylan voiced a fear that she had been worrying about all evening.
Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle. "You will. Don't worry about that. I know you'll do great in whatever house you're put into." He placed the three-legged stool in the middle of the room.
Dylan threw him an anxious look as she walked over slowly. "What if I don't? What if I do really badly? What if nobody likes me? Or worse, I don't like the house I'm in?" She sat down on the three-legged stool, her back stiff and her legs poised ready to jump up and run if she needed to.
"Relax." Dumbledore soothed, positioning the hat over her head. "You'll be fine."
Dylan's vision was thrown into darkness as the hat was placed on her head. There was a comforting weight to it, and she sat in silence waiting to see what happened next.
"Why, hello Miss Thompson. It's been a long time," a strangely familiar voice whispered in her ear, causing her stomach to knot. "Don't panic, now let me see. I've done this many times, there's nothing to be afraid of. Hmmm…"
Dylan's hands found the wooden seat and gripped it tightly. Where do you think? Her mind was racing a million miles a second, but she forced that one question to the front.
"Well, it's difficult to say. I can see two possibilities here. I know you would be great in any of the houses particularly that of Gryffindor, but you have many qualities befitting a Slytherin," the voice muttered softly in her ear. "It is simply a matter of where you would prefer to be put. For the first time in my sorting career, I am going to let you decide which you would prefer to be in, however, allow me to give you a little piece of advice."
Dylan nodded hesitantly. Anything that would help, I really don't know what I want.
"Slytherin would allow you to become resourceful, powerful and great. However, friends will be lacking in that house, and I do know how much you need friendship. In Gryffindor, friends will be plentiful, but your reputation will separate you from many. It comes down to what you would prefer. However, be mindful, this decision will set the direction for your entire life." The voice trailed off, and Dylan was left with the pounding of her heart and her thoughts racing through her head.
If you mean fate and destiny, I have to mention to you now, I don't believe in it. I never have, it's for the weak and the superstitious. It is for those who need something to believe in… like re-incarnation or a supreme deity. Dylan's mind frantically raced to remember who was sitting at each table. At Gryffindor, they looked rather friendly, not many people were sorted into there, but they all looked close and happy. Slytherin… The boulders, the boy and the plain girl – they were all in Slytherin. They all seemed rather rude, I doubt even they were friendly with each other.
"Time is ticking away here," The voice called to her again. "Not meaning to rush you or anything."
Gryffindor.
"Then, GRYFFINDOR, it is." The voiced shouted. "But remember my warning."
Dumbledore pulled the hat off her head, and placed it back on the shelf. "Gryffindor…" he muttered before sitting himself down at his desk. "McGonagall shall be waiting for you in the corridor; she will show you to your new room. All of your possessions have been moved there. Good night."
Dylan opened her mouth to mention the cryptic message the sorting hat had given her, but her uncle's dismissal was not to be argued. Besides, he had already plunged himself into his books and was rapidly muttering to himself as he jotted something down on a scrap piece of parchment.
"Good night." Dylan bowed once to the headmaster and showed herself out.
15