A/N: This is my first attempt at publishing a fanfic. I'm a long-term reader, avid fan of HP, and an English major. Hopefully, this story will be easy and enjoyable to read. Please share your thoughts with me.
Disclaimer: JKR owns everything… alas.
Jazzmine Curare walked into the Headmaster's office on August 30th, answering his summons.
"You wanted to speak to me, sir?" Jazz bowed her head slightly and glanced up through her thick eyelashes at Albus Dumbledore.
"Lemon head?" Albus offered, twinkling merrily. When Jazz shook her head, he popped one of the classic muggle candies into his mouth, then continued.
"Miss Curare, as you know, the rest of the students will be arriving tomorrow evening. There will be a feast and a Sorting. The Sorting determines to which house each new students is best suited. While a student is attending Hogwarts, and indeed, after graduation as well, the House and the student share a symbiotic relationship. Normally, you would be sorted along with the first years. However, since you are already at Hogwarts, I see no need to wait until the feast for you to be Sorted. If you wish, we can decide this factor right now." Albus looked expectantly at Jazz, twiddling his thumbs and sucking on his lemon head.
Answering his prompting gaze, Jazz replied, "Of course, Headmaster, as you wish, sir." She didn't quite understand the meaning of the Headmaster's request. How complicated this place was…
Silently wondering how this "Sorting" would be done, Jazz was mildly surprised to see the Headmaster get up out of his office chair, reach above his head, and pull down an old patched hat from a shelf on the wall. The Headmaster held out the hat to Jazz, obviously expecting her to put it on. If there was one thing she did understand, it was non-verbal communication. She'd had plenty of experience with that before she came to Hogwarts…
Jazz obeyed the Headmaster's unspoken order. She braced herself for whatever was to come, consciously checking her mental shields and determining that her mind was seamlessly sealed to the outside. Upon placing the hat on her thick black hair with deep crimson highlights, she was shocked to hear a masculine voice inside her head. However, the Headmaster remained relaxed in his armchair, and he had not yet harmed her in any way, so Jazz released her desire to flee or fight back and simply expelled a calming breath.
"So you're the one everyone has been talking about… And I can see what all the fuss is for – it isn't often one encounters a mind-speaking empathy, even here at Hogwarts." The hat paused for a brief moment, just long enough for Jazz to begin to form a question. It continued with a question of its own. "Hmm, where to put you…?"
After this, the hat remained silent for a length of time, apparently lost in thought. During the silence, Jazz pondered whether or not to question the hat. The Headmaster remained cheerfully silent. Just as Jazz was about to pose her question, the hat declared, "I suppose it will be Slytherin. You have traits well-suited to every house: the common sense of a Ravenclaw; the compassion of a Hufflepuff; the morals of a Gryffindor; and the mistrust of a Slytherin. I think your talents and experiences would be wasted on all but Slytherin; you exhibit a thought process unique to that house. Yes, it will be Slytherin!" And with that the hat fell silent.
Jazz remained frozen for a heartbeat, then reached up and removed the hat from her head. She held out the patched hat to the Headmaster. He took the hat, and as he turned to put it back on the wall shelf, he spoke.
"Well, Miss Curare, it would appear that you are now a Slytherin. I believe Professor Snape would be willing to show you to your quarters?" The Headmaster's words were a combination of statement and question. As he spoke, he looked over Jazz's shoulder.
Jazz turned in line with the Headmaster's gaze and looked to the heavy oak door in surprise. Indeed, there was a dark man waiting at the entrance to the Headmaster's office. It wasn't very often that someone could enter a room, or even a building, without Jazz sensing the person. Most people radiated energy, with their thoughts and emotions displayed on the surface of their minds for all to see. Being an Empath, Jazz was able to sense people's thoughts and emotions, to feel them as though they were her own. She was also able to project her thoughts and emotions onto other people. For these reasons, and more, Jazz had spent years meticulously constructing shields to keep her mind safe from outsiders and to ensure that other people's thoughts remained private. The fact that this dark man had his thoughts shielded implied much about his personality.
Jazz nodded in acknowledgement of the Headmaster, then stood and followed Professor Snape up the stairs and into the castle's corridors. Once in the corridor, Professor Snape walked briskly in the direction of the dungeons. He never spoke nor looked at Jazz.
Snape's pace was designed to cause others to either fall behind or jog to keep up. As such, Snape was annoyed to see Jazz merely lengthen her stride and walk quite comfortably a step behind and to his left. Snarling at this unintentional defiance of his authority, Snape led Jazz on a twisting path, turning every few corridors, purposefully trying to confuse the young woman's sense of direction.
After several minutes of this, Jazz timidly spoke. "Excuse me, Sir, but I can't believe this is really the path from the Headmaster's office to the Slytherin dorms. I mean no disrespect, but –." Jazz broke off, in response to the breath of cold fury that escaped Snape's tight mind walls.
"Excuse me, Miss Curare, but I have spent more years in this school than you have been alive. Furthermore, I am the professor, not you, so do not question me." Each word was clearly enunciated, distanced from the other words by ice. Snape's haunting eyes glared into Jazz's deep hazel gaze, involving the two in a staring match. Inside Snape's mind, his thoughts were reeling. Inside Jazz's mind, her thoughts were spinning. A person passing the two in the corridor would have not even a hint that the peoples' interaction was anything but calm.
Attempting to de-escalate the silent battle, Jazz consciously projected an aura of peace and calm past her mental shields and toward Professor Snape.
Sensing this mental projection, Snape snarled and tore his gaze from Jazz, continuing along the corridor in the most direct path toward the dungeons. How dare she try to calm me? Snape thought, furiously. Then, with a hint of curiosity, Who is this person?