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The Accidental Slytherin: Chapter One
"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat roared for the final student that year.
There was a collective gasp among the crowd that filled the great hall, and then total silence. For ages no one said a word; they all just stared at the frightened first year who sat frozen on the stool at the front of the room.
There was no denying that Cécil was what she was, even if she didn't realize it herself. Anyone who'd taken the train ride to school only hours earlier (which was everyone) knew she'd been the last to make it through platform nine and three quarters. They had all seen as she'd scrambled aboard only seconds before departure, horrifically out of place clad head to toe in muggle clothing , obviously disoriented by her strange and new surroundings.
Furthermore... Slytherins almost always knew other Slytherins. Pure-bloods were usually raised together, and half-bloods were few and far between. Thanks to the house's prejudice founder, a muggle-born Slytherin was simply unheard of.
A stunned Professor McGonagall took the hat from the Cécil's head.
Not understanding something was wrong exactly, and figuring she was now sorted, Cécil stepped down to join the Slytherin table when the elderly woman grabbed her arm. As anxious as she was to be off display, she couldn't deny the small and strange relief she felt at the gesture. The students there didn't look particularly welcoming to her.
"Wait... we should try this again I think, Miss..." she glanced at the scroll, "Zydel." McGonagall said, smiling faintly. She looked just as confused as the girl felt, and motioned her back to the stool.
Obediently, Cécil sat down again, still frightfully aware that several hundred eyes were on her. The professor replaced the hat on her head and they waited...
Nothing happened.
Five minutes passed and still nothing happened until McGonagall tried tapping the hat with her wand.
"Wha-?" the lumpy fabric mumbled as if it had already spent another year in hibernation. "You again eh? You think I'm wrong?"
Everyone in the great hall leaned forward, never having seen the hat make a mistake before.
"Zydel... Zydel..." the sorting hat adjusted itself atop Cécil's head, appearing to think. "No," it sang out, "I said... Slytherin, and I mean Slytherin! SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN! SLYTHERIN!" it yelled.
If if were possible, reactions across the room were now even more shocked than they had been the first time the hat had sorted her. Cécil shrank in her seat when a wave of boos erupted from the table she supposedly belonged to.
"Oh dear, you'd better come with me," McGonagall whispered, taking her arm again and leading her out a side door.
As they left, Cécil could hear students remarking loudly, and even shouting that 'the professors would have this fixed' and 'of course they wouldn't let a mudblood into Slytherin,' whatever that meant.