How interesting…A Weasley…Another one…

I fidgeted silently on the stool, eyes shut so tightly I could see white spots in the darkness behind my eyelids. My fingers were absentmindedly twirling a lock of my fiery red hair as I awaited my final verdict. I counted the seconds in my mind, but for some reason I had the nagging feeling that it was taking longer than it had for anyone else. The Hat's voice echoed in my head as it contemplated all the aspects of me that would sort me into a house.

You're the seventh one I've sorted…Seven's quite a lucky number, you know…It's also an odd number, did you see? Oh, but you did. You are quite clever, aren't you? Not so much a brave girl, no, not brave…

My heart thudded against my chest nervously. Not brave? All Gryffindors were brave! "I am brave!" I muttered as protest, though my small voice gave away all my doubts on the matter.

The Hat only laughed. You're also a pureblood…Mind you, not all Hufflepuffs are purebloods…That wouldn't work either…

I rolled my eyes impatiently, eager for the Hat to make its decision. How long would I be stranded in this limbo, where I belonged to no house and had no classmates? I hoped against hope that it would soon be over, but obviously that was not the Hat's plan.

Ooh, well, someone's a bit impatient…Arrogant, if you ask me—yes, you thought you'd automatically be sorted into Gryffindor, didn't you? Because all your brothers got sorted into Gryffindor, that's it, isn't it? Ah, but you're not your brothers. You're the baby sister, the one who has to be protected…No, don't give me that, you know it's true…

My hands clenched into fists, fingernails cutting into my palms. Yes, it was true. As the baby sister, all my brothers ever did was be protective of me. I was eleven! I could very well protect myself, thank you! Just because I was the only girl and my mother thought I absolutely needed to be babysat did not mean that I was this delicate little flower that couldn't do anything on her own.

You want to be different, do you? To be the odd one out, the one Weasley that didn't have to be constantly watched? How will it feel, I wonder, to grow up to neither be as adventurous as Charlie, nor as perfect as Percy, nor as mischievous as Fred and George?

By then I was vaguely aware of everyone looking at me curiously, wondering why the Hat was taking so long. In truth, it was saying all the right things. It would be cruel to have to be the shadow of all my brothers, not even being good at being bad, just being bad at everything. I couldn't even be known as the clumsy one, because that would be Ron!

Arrogance! Power! I know exactly where you should go! Little Miss Odd Weasley, welcome to—

"SLYTHERIN!"

My eyes burst open in surprise as I saw some Gryffindors exchange worried looks back and forth. Some members of the other houses were whispering to themselves, no doubt wondering why a Weasley would be sorted into a Slytherin, where obviously the family had a soiled reputation. I looked around, eager to catch Ron's or Harry's eye before being escorted off to the Slytherin table, but neither of them were to be found. Instead, my gaze landed on Hermione Granger, the bushy-haired girl who prided herself on being their best friend. Her shoulders were hunched forward over a book, but her eyes met mine, a pained expression across her face. What is going on? she seemed to mouth, and I was about to answer—until I saw the obvious worry in her look. Suddenly I felt my gut clench and realized that this was exactly what I was trying to escape! Why was she so preoccupied? Being a Slytherin wasn't some sort of death sentence! In fact, hadn't Slytherin been winning the House Cup for quite a while? What was so bad about Slytherin house?

I steeled myself, not just against her pitying look but also against the predictable abuse I'd have to endure—for a while, at least—from my classmates. I gingerly lifted the Hat off my head, since nobody seemed to want to do it for me, and walked over to the Slytherin table, trying my best to hold my head up high. Then again, as the Hat so kindly pointed out, I was not brave. I've never been. I was only too terrified of what possible jeers would be cast my way once I reached the table, which I was approaching at an uncomfortably quick pace.

"The weasel's entered the snake house, eh?" called a particularly sour-faced blond boy with a pointed chin and a pale complexion. A girl with dark hair sitting next to him let out a shrill, high-pitched cackle as his icy blue eyes bore into mine, coated in what I can only describe as hatred. "Didn't you know that muggle-loving idiots might as well call their children 'mudbloods'? How the devil did you even get in this school?" I clenched my jaw immediately after he said mud…the filthy word. How many times had I heard my father complaining about the discrimination towards muggle-born wizards, and the use of that awful term?

"Malfoy, lay off her!" called an older, dark-skinned girl sitting a few people away from us. She must've been at least a fourth-year student, by the look of her. She turned to me apologetically, her hazel eyes pleading. "Welcome to Slytherin house, I'm Periwinkle Dotfrey. You are…Jennifer Wesley?"

"Ginevra Weasley," I corrected her timidly, glad that not everyone was as obviously thickheaded as that Malfoy character. Suddenly the name clicked into place in my mind, and I remembered why his face, so full of hatred, was familiar. His father—Lucius—was a pain to my own, constantly bullying him for being so interested in muggles. Honestly, I didn't understand why he believed he'd earned the right to bother my family so. He himself had a strange obsession with magical artifacts, specifically those related with dark magic, yet we didn't go around calling him a Death Eater! Why, then, did he think he should be allowed to call us 'mud…' the filthy word, in any case? "Nice to meet you, Periwinkle."

"Developing a soft spot for mudbloods, are we, Dotfrey?" sneered a bulky boy sitting near Malfoy. "Remember why you got put into Slytherin."

"Of course I remember!" Periwinkle replied, blushing as she wrinkled her nose, horrified at the comment. "I'm just saying, Ginny here is a perfectly good pureblood. I see no reason to bother her about being in Slytherin! Obviously the Sorting Hat saw something we didn't—"

"Yes," interrupted the dark-haired girl next to Malfoy that had laughed earlier, "it's obvious that whatever that batty old Hat sees in her is hidden deep down—" that brought out a ring of laughter from the nearby Slytherins "—or obviously the Hat has lost its touch and doesn't know what it's doing anymore!"

"Just because your sister got sorted into Ravenclaw and you didn't, Pansy, honestly!" Periwinkle countered, crossing her arms defensively. "She got in because of her wits, while you relied on blood!"

"Say that again, I DARE you!" hissed the girl, Pansy, from across the table, leaning forward with her eyes narrowed dangerously. I shrank back into my seat, alarmed that I'd technically started the awful dispute. Sure, perhaps Periwinkle was already a bit individualized for taking kindly to new Slytherins despite their history, but I'd somehow—without saying anything but my name—begun this new argument.

"I was almost put into Ravenclaw," I managed to mutter miraculously, concentrating hard on not lifting my gaze from the table. Somehow, Pansy could hear me over the rabble of silverware scraping on the plates, and she tucked her wand back into her robes with a smug look on her face.

"See? Ginger Weasel here almost got put into Ravenclaw. That shows how smart you'd have to be to get in, now, doesn't it? Are you not going to bother her about it?" she snapped, grabbing an apple from one of the baskets that had magically appeared. I realized in horror that I'd missed Professor Dumbledore's entire speech! I looked around frantically, hoping that he hadn't given any instructions on how to eat, or something of the sort, before taking time to process the food popping up on the golden plates set at the center of the table.

"Dig in," Periwinkle said, smiling and winking at me while gesturing towards the food with her fork. "It's a…how do muggles call it…an 'all you can eat' dinner."

"I'd go easy on the carrots," Pansy commented in a low voice, so quietly that I doubted anyone else could hear. "You eat any more orange, your bloody hair will set on fire."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my very, very, very first Harry Potter fanfiction (because I've recently read the books…I know, bad me…and I haven't even read the last one!) Anyways, tell me if you liked it! (: The idea goes to my friend Livia who came up with the thought of Ginny being sorted into another house, which I thought was brilliant! Please read & review, thank you!

As for my other fanfics, I'll try to update soon!

-TGBW