I just stared at him, "What? Harry, your charming and all, but I'm not sure, just give me some time to think about it, alright?"
"Fine, just fine," Harry said as he stood, stowing away in his robes, a little box, "Think about it, but, please, tell me soon, O.K.?"
"O.K." I watched as Harry strode away to his dormitory. His question wasn't all that unexpected, but still, I'm only17. Well, I'd better start at the beginning.
One day, about a year ago, when I was walking home from school, getting the mail on the way, I was surprised to see a creamy, parchment envelope mixed in with the customary white. I didn't really think it was that shocking until I realized it had my name on it, clear as day:
Miss Dalila V. Riddle
The Second-Largest Bedroom
9747 Mayflower Drive
Montpelier, VT 05609, USA
I just stood there for a moment, shocked; my mom is always getting mail from some foreign country or another, but I didn't expect that I'd ever get one. I looked at the return address. It only said one word:
HogwartsThis can't be the right address, Mom said I'd never get a letter like this, she said I was too normal!
Come on, your ancestors helped found that school, how could you not be accepted?
Who are you?
Why darling, I'm your conscience!
Okay. I don't want to move to England just to go a magical school, what's wrong with the one I have!
Honey, it's not just a magical school, it's Hogwarts!
Hogwarts, shmogwarts, it's boarding school!
It's not just boarding school it's-
I know, I know, magical boarding school.
Luv, why are you just standing there?
Oh sorry, I looked up from the letter I had been gawking at and began walking up the driveway. What's luv anyway?
It's a term of affection; all consciences use it in Europe.
Great. I entered the house, "Mom, I'm home!"
Mom entered the room from the kitchen.
"Honey, how was your day?" my mom asked hugging me.
"Fine, but Mom, we are going to have to move."
Mom stopped hugging me, "Why, darling?" I didn't say anything, just handed her the letter. She took one look at it and said, "Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry." She looked at me, "well, I guess we have no choice, we're moving."
Scary, isn't it?
You betcha. I looked around the train station. No friendly faces. My conscience and I were stuck attempting to get on platform 9 ¾ where there were only platforms 9 and10, and the train leaves in 5 minutes!
Why don't we go look for a trip lever or switch on the barrier between the two platforms?
M'k. I did as my conscience suggested and was amazed, my hand could go right through the wall! Wow!
Come on, let's go!
I grabbed my cart making sure not to upset my new cat, Lily, or my new books (my favorite of which is about the Boy Who Lived and has the cutest picture of him as a baby, awww), and pushed against the barrier, finding no resistance at all! As I continued I found myself facing a scarlet train, while waving parents said their goodbyes. One red-haired lady spotted me and helped my get my things on the train, "Thank you!"
"Anytime, dear, goodbye, and have a good school year!" she called.
I waved back at her and began looking for a compartment. All were full. In my desperation I knocked on the door of a compartment that had four boys about my age in it. A blond-haired boy opened the door, "What do you want."
"I…I…I was wondering if I could sit in your compartment, as everywhere else is full."
"What house are you in?" He asked abruptly.
"I don't know, see, I'm new."
A slightly taller, brown-haired boy stood up, "Why don't you invite the little beauty in, Draco?" He smirked and I could see that his teeth were rotten.
Ewwww.
Tell me about it.
The boy with the rotten teeth grabbed my arm and I screamed.
"Flint, why are you torturing girls again?" came a voice, I was so scared that anyone was welcome to save me from the boy with the bad teeth, they made me want to cry. I turned and found myself looking into bottle-green eyes.
"Saint Potter," said Draco.
Potter? No, must be a coincidence. My head started spinning, the shock (combined with the fact that Flint was tightening his grip) was enough to cause me to faint. Before I knew it, I had.
I awoke to see three anxious faces looking down at me: one a red-haired boy, one a brown-haired girl, and one a black-haired rescuer. I sat up, "Who are you?" I asked.
The black-haired boy responded, "This is Ron Weasley," the red-haired boy, "Hermione Granger," the brown-haired girl, "and I'm Harry Potter. Oh, by the way, who are you?"
"My name is Dalila, Dalila Riddle."
They gasped, "If I were you I'd keep quiet about that. Wait, you are descended from Salazar Slytherin?" asked Hermione incredulously.
"Yeah," I said slowly, "do you have a problem with that. I'm not even descended only from Slytherin."
"You're not?" she asked.
"No, I'm not, see, my dad's dad was descended from Slytherin, but he married a someone descended from Hufflepuff. And my mom's dad was descended from Gryffindor, but he married someone descended from Ravenclaw. So I'm actually directly descended from all four founders."
"Oh my good, golly, gosh!" Hermione screeched, "You're the perfect student! You're probably brave, kind, smart, and cunning!"
"Um, Hermione? I'm sorry to disappoint you but your wrong on all four accounts."
"Get a load of this Harry! Hermione was wrong!" said Ron excitedly.
"I know! Isn't that so wonderful!" Harry said.
"Oh, Harry, by the way. How did I end up in your compartment?" I asked him.
Harry looked sheepish, "Well I was passing by, wondering why the cart of sweets hadn't come yet, when I heard you scream I decided to see what was going on so I came over and 'rescued' you. After you fainted I well, I…" He trailed off.
"Well what?"
"I punched Flint." The last two words almost a whisper. "But then I picked you up and carried you here." He finished in his normal volume.
"HARRY!!!!" the three of them scolded.
"Your not supposed to punch people even if they are Slytherin," said Hermione.
"Yeah Hermione, speak for yourself." Ron sniggered. She turned pink but said nothing.
"So," said Harry, changing the subject, "What house are you in, Dalila?"
"I don't know. I'm new, see, one day when I was coming home from school; I got a letter saying I was coming to Hogwarts. I crossed the ocean, and here I am."
"The ocean?" asked Ron confused, then added with sudden clarity, "Oh, you're from America!"
"So?"
"Dalila, are you good at Quidditch?" said Harry hastily.
"Quidditch? What's Quidditch?"
They just sat there gawking at me. Oh great, now I'm a European geek.
It's not that bad, luv.
Yeah right. "So, what's Quidditch?" They stopped staring and the rest of the trip passed in normal enough bliss, just talking about a game that in my opinion is very difficult.
Sure, Quidditch, 9 people on floor sweepers: 2 guards, 4 players, 2 hitters, and 1 looker.
Hon, it's 7 people on brooms: 1 keeper, 3 chasers, 2 beaters, and 1 seeker.
So?
You are so stupid!
When we got to the castle I went up the steps with my friends, but a very familiar, tall, sinister-looking, woman in green told me to join her, "My name is Professor McGonagall. Dalila Riddle, come with me." I followed her into an enormous room that seemed to open to the heavens, "This is the Great Hall," she explained, "This is where we all dine. Now wait here for a moment." She walked up to a long table and quietly conversed with another familiar-looking person. A taller, silver-haired, old man. After a few minutes she return and said nothing but "Wait."
The old man stood and conversation died down to a whisper. "This year we have a new student who will be sorted before the first years. Dalila Riddle, if you could come over here please?" the old man asked. I could hear the students buzzing at my last name.
I walked over to him, "I am Dalila Riddle, sir."
"If you could sit on this stool and put on this hat, you will be sorted into your house." I sat on the three-legged stool he indicated and he set the old, patched, and worn hat on my head.
The hat hissed into my ear, "Aren't you unique? Godric, Salazar, Helga, and Rowena all appear in you. You have bravery to be different. You have cunning to get what you want. You have loyalty to stick with those who help you. You have knowledge to choose worthy and helpful friends. But where to put you? You would be wonderful in Slytherin, I must say. Your grandfather would be proud. But your other grandfather would be furious. And I always had a liking for those of Godric's blood. How about…GRYFFINDOR!"
I got up and joined my friends at the Gryffindor table. "Hello!"
A bunch of little kids came the doors I had and gathered into a group. The hat that had just sorted me now broke into song:
"While I am just a hat,
Godric's precious hat,
I say your house,
Instead of going splat.
Slytherin, perhaps,
Those who like me not,
Gryffindor instead,
If with them you fought.
Hufflepuff, that sly goose,
Wasn't fully cooked,
Ravenclaw, that cruel witch,
Sneered every time she looked.
Hated me the three of them,
Slytherin more so.
Wanted to burn me he,
I never wanted to go.
Godric wasn't there to help,
On a date he was.
With the enemy, one girl,
It was all the buzz.
Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw,
One cannot remember,
But I now see,
Was a bright red ember."
"Hat," the silver haired man said sternly, "I believe that is enough. Please, Professor McGonagall, proceed with the sorting."
As the stern woman unfurled a scroll, I turned my attention back to my friends. "Um, does that hat normally sing?" I asked Hermione.
"Yeah, it sings a different sorting song each year, though this year's seems to be a bit, um, overdone. The Sorting Hat used to belong to Godric Gryffindor, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
"It used to belong to Godric?" I asked, surprised.
Harry leaned across the table to answer my overheard question, "Yeah, so? I've pulled Godric's sword out of the hat."
"You pulled Godric Gryffindor's sword out of his hat and you didn't tell me!!!!!"
"So?" The both of them answered in unison.
"He's like my Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather or something like that, and you didn't tell me!!!!!"
"So? He's my Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather!" Harry retorted.
"You're my Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather's Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson!!!!!"
"So?"
"We're like extended cousins!"
"On my dad's side I'm also related to scum like Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Flint," He scowled slightly, "Voldemort. But the good news is that I'm related to people like you and the Weasleys too."
"Me? You're proud to be related to me?"
"Who wouldn't? You're pretty," he said reaching out a finger to stroke my cheek.
"Oh, stop it Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Can't you see it's making her blush? Oh, I just remembered! Who is up for playing Truth or Dare with veritaserum tonight?"
We just looked at each other until I said what was on everybody's mind, "Um, Hermione? I'm kind of scared of playing." Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.
"Oh, all right," she said a little put out.
To make Hermione feel better I added, "But we can play another time!"
"Ok!"
I looked around the Great Hall, where did the food come from? When I vocalized my question Harry and Ron burst into laughter and Hermione giggled, then took pity on me and answered my question, "When the Sorting Hat is finished, the food appears on the plates, then we eat it, then Dumbledore makes a speech."
"Dumbledore?" I asked, confused.
"The old man with the silver beard at the table up front," Hermione explained, "He is our Headmaster."
"That's my grandfather!" I suddenly realized.