"The fact remains, she is a child! However powerful a magical object the Sorting Hat may be, I cannot bring myself to believe that an 11 year old girl is evil!" Professor McGonagall sat down once again, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration and exhaustion. It had been hours since the Sorting Hat had cried out that Mína Wyrd, the peculiar orphan child who stood calmly in the corner observing her professors arguing, was an abomination. McGonagall did not understand why there was even an argument to be had. As professors, it was their duty to protect the children in their care; not accuse them of doing wrong simply by existing.

"Explain to me then, Minerva: why do you think the Hat said those things?" Professor Hawke, this year's new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, had been extremely fierce in voicing his concerns about the child thus far. "You must have some concerns, the Hat's never wrong, and I'm sure you'll agree with me that there's something not quite right about her... Have you forgotten what Eliza told us about Gringotts?".

At this, Professor Law (who had been silently watching the child for quite some time) was brought out of her thoughts and back in to the room:

"I still don't know what happened that day,". Her voice was a near whisper, and she looked ashamed of having spoken as soon as the words left her lips./div

"Mína," Professor McGonagall's address was the first time the child had been spoken to for a considerable amount of time, "perhaps if you explain to us what happened at Gringotts, some of the other professors would find it easier to trust you. You have to understand, we are not trying to accuse you of anything, but it is still slightly unnerving that the Sorting Hat would say such things about you. Nothing of the sort has ever happened before - therefore we are all a tad confused,". She gave the girl what she hoped was a reassuring smile, despite the uncertainty she felt within. Hawke was right, there was definitely something not quite right about the child before her. Perhaps it was her dark eyes, which seemed capable of burning in to one's soul.

The child stood, her pale features showing no emotion. She took time to focus her cold eyes on each individual in the room, before resting them on the headmistress.

"I hate to disappoint, professor, but I am afraid I cannot tell you,". Her voice was both sickeningly sweet and terrifyingly menacing.

Professor Hawke let out an exasperated "Of course!" and turned his back to the child.

"Moreover, I cannot explain to you the things that were said about me by your 'Sorting Hat'. However, I am able to tell you that students are not permitted to be out of their dormitories at this hour. The latter fact is quite convenient for me, as I have grown rather bored with your incessant, and futile, arguing. Would one of you kindly accompany me to my room, or will I be left to wander the castle alone?".

Her cold words hung in the air. None had a response. The expressions on the professors faces ranged from confusion and shock, to anger, to undeniable fear. Finally, Professor Slughorn broke the silence:

"As head of Slytherin House, perhaps I should show the girl to her room,". His statement sounded more like a question, as though he was waiting for someone to contradict him, to spare him from this task. Realising this was not to be the case, the elderly professor sighed. "Come then, Miss - uhh - Wyrd. Let's get you to bed, it is rather late. Shan't be long,". His last words were directed to his fellow professors, many of whom could not bring themselves to look at him, or the small girl by his side.

"Goodnight, professors. I look forward to being taught by you this year, and of course in years to come. Thank you for the concern you have all so readily displayed tonight, regarding my welfare. It shall not be forgotten,". She turned, and then strode out of the door Professor Slughorn was holding open for her. He, in turn, shot a final weary smile to Professor McGonagall.

It was a fair walk to the Slytherin common room from the headmistress' office. Horace Slughorn, usually so talkative and full of life, was silent the entire way. And Mína Wyrd, the oddly threatening child who almost never spoke, unsurprisingly joined him in this silence. She walked (rather strangely, Horace noted) ahead of the man who was supposedly guiding her, pure black curls bouncing against her back. The pair entered the common room, and then the professor was at last forced to speak:

"First year girls' dormitories are just down there, I think yours is second door on the left. You're sharing with a young Miss Sprout I believe, her great aunt was once a Herbology professor at this very school, as well as being head of Hufflepuff house,". Noticing that the child was now staring at him, Professor Slughorn bid her a goodnight and hurried away.

Mína turned away from the dormitories and seated herself on one of the comfortable chaise longues in the common room. She surveyed her surroundings, paying particular attention to the many paintings of famous witches and wizards which adorned the high walls. But the two faces she searched for, she could not see. She clasped in her hand the silver locket that hung loosely around her neck on a thin chain. Out of habit, her fingers began to trace the intricate design upon it. Two snakes, bearing fangs, ready to attack, wound tightly around the thorned stems of two beautiful roses. These images bordered an inscription in a foreign tongue which only a select few would be able to interpret. Parseltongue - the secret language of the serpent. However after years of reading and rereading the only direct words Mína had from her parents, she need not think to interpret them. These words were as clear in her mind as though they had been inscribed there instead.

Power, beauty, intellect, respect.

My child, such qualities shall be yours.

You need only seize them.

You are the true Chosen One.