Chapter 10: The Sorting
"Daphne," Cyrna greeted with a tentative smile as she approached the pale girl who was standing close to a tall, thin, brown-haired boy who kept an aloof expression and a black-haired girl with a stocky build and a jutting jaw.
The pale girl delicately arched an eyebrow up in response. "Cyrna. I thought you would be sitting with the Potter boy?" intoned Daphne coldly, her features not betraying a single emotion.
Studying Daphne's face for a while longer before deciding that no information could be gleaned, Cyrna gave a nonchalant shrug and cautiously answered, "there are many benefits to befriending the boy-who-lived—of course," a teasing lilt entered her tone, "when I saw my friend that I had met in Diagon Alley, I just had to come and offer you a greeting."
Amusement lit Daphne's sky-blue eyes for a brief moment before her emotionless expression returned. Her eyes darted to the forms of her two other companions who were watching the proceedings with a disdainful look before she met Cyrna's probing gaze with a carefully blank expression.
'She's acting' thought Cyrna with a mental smirk as she answered Daphne's gaze with a minuscule tilt of her head.
Approval shone in Daphne's eyes, and with a tilt of her chin, she spoke in a lofty voice, introducing her companions, "Theodore Nott and Millicent Bulstrode of the Sacred Twenty-Eight." She gestured to Cyrna. "Cyrna." She introduced to her companions.
Both continued to stare disdainfully at Cyrna.
"And she will be sitting with us," finished Daphne, stretching out her hand as an invitation.
Cyrna took it without hesitation and politely spoke her thanks.
The boy shot a confused look at Daphne before rolling his eyes and giving a resigned sigh. He gave a small shrug at the other girl who was staring at Daphne with an expression of disgust and headed towards the boat.
"Theodore! What are you doing!" the other girl cried, "She's not even a pureblood and isn't she the girl that Draco was ranting to us about on the train ride? He hates her!"
Cyrna's eyes narrowed though she remained still. She looked towards Daphne and noted the minuscule shake of head.
Stay out of it. Her eyes seemed to convey. I'll handle this.
Cyrna kept her silence and watched as Theodore turned around slowly. Their eyes met, Cyrna's not betraying any emotion; his coldly assessing. He looked her over critically for a few more seconds before he replied with a lazy drawl, "I don't see what is so special about her—"
Millicent's eyes lit up while Daphne's expression remained impassive.
"—but Daphne rarely makes a move without merit," Theodore continued, "besides, a short boat ride with a half-blood has never killed anyone."
"But what if Draco sees us with her! I don't want to be on his bad side!" Millicent whined.
Theodore snorted. He switched his gaze to Daphne. "I'll see you on the boat after you settle this matter," he said before walking off in a leisurely pace.
Cyrna watched as the boy walked off leaving Millicent at the mercy of Daphne's fierce gaze.
"So what are you going to do? Follow every whim Draco has? Like what he likes and hate what he hates?" Daphne sneered with disgust, "grow a brain," she said scornfully. "Slytherins look out for each other, but first, we look out for our own skin." She cast a quick glance at Cyrna before she turned back to face Millicent, "and if you had seen what I had seen in Flourish and Blotts, you would realize that she is worth risking Malfoy's ire."
"But the Malfoys, besides the Blacks, is the most influential family—my parents said to stay on Malfoy's good side!"
Daphne eyed Millicent for a while longer until she began to shift uncomfortably under the stare. She gave a sniff of disdain. "Well, lucky for our little group, my parents brought me up with some form of pride towards my own family. The Greengrass family will make decisions that prioritize our own benefit," she concluded firmly.
"But—"
"If you are content with slaving away for Malfoy, then suit yourself," Daphne shrugged as she motioned with a tilt of her head for Cyrna to walk with her to the boat, "but I have my own pride, and my ambitions as the heiress of the Greengrass family is far greater than being someone's lapdog."
The boat ride was spent in tense silence. Theodore was staring straight ahead with a fixed gaze at the destination; Daphne calmly sat cross-legged, inspecting her nails with her emotionless expression while Millicent threw nervous glances towards the boat Malfoy was on, hoping that he wouldn't notice their boat. Cyrna sat quietly beside Daphne with Prince sleeping on her lap, contemplating about the prejudice that she had just experienced and about the upcoming event—the sorting.
Tensely, she thought about the possible houses that she could be in and desperately hoped for Ravenclaw. Her plans hinged on her making it into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff—and there was no way she would qualify for the latter house.
'Well,' she thought, 'the Sorting Hat did allow Harry to choose his house...'
'There's no reason to worry,' she decided. Cyrna settled back on her seat, ready to enjoy the boat ride.
The little boat glided across the water, barely disturbing the water's surface. From the distance, Hogwarts already seemed extremely tall, but as they glided closer, the great castle which sat on the edge of a high cliff, seemed to reach further and further into the expanse of the starry night sky, looming over their tiny boats. She could not take her eyes away from the sight. Cyrna watched with stunned awe as she gazed upon the magnificence of its architecture—doubly so as the windows on its many turrets were currently lit up with a warm, inviting glow, and soft quiet music could be heard originating from the castle.
Hogwarts shone like a beacon of light amidst the dark of the night sky, and it was utterly beautiful.
This sight faded as the fleet of boats approached a curtain of ivy concealing a dark, underground passageway to the huge, oak front door.
"Everyone here?" Hagrid bellowed with a merry grin on his face as he surveyed the students who crowded around him, eager to get a glimpse of the interior of the castle. With a wink to Harry and Cyrna, he knocked loudly on the door, each one sending vibrations to the ground. At the third knock, the door abruptly swung open and the students standing nearest to the castle door were able to make out the figure of a stern-looking witch in emerald green robes who was studying each of the students carefully, making sure they had adhered to the dress code.
"Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid, "I've brought the firs' years."
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here," the witch replied as she pulled the door open wider and started across the flagged stone floor which was only visible under the fire-light of the bright torches that lined the stone walls of the castle. As they neared the Great Hall, the sound of excited chatter became louder and louder; the music that they had heard on the lake flooded their ears with its warm and inviting melody.
"How exactly do they sort us," asked Harry, who had been listening attentively to Professor McGonagall's speech on how to win the house cup, in a quiet whisper.
Cyrna, who was behind Harry, gave a small shrug when he glanced questioningly at her.
Seeing that neither of his friends had any idea of what might happen, Ron spoke up, "My brothers said that it would be some sort of test that would hurt a lot." He shrugged when he saw Harry's horrified expression, "well that's what the twins said, so it's probably a lie."
Cyrna watched as most of the students panicked silently about the sorting as they waited for Professor McGonagall to return while many Purebloods looked on with sadistic glee—that is, until the horde of ghosts streamed in through the walls. A yelp from Prince and shrieks of surprise from all the students was heard as the ghosts circled around the group, introducing themselves.
This continued for a few more minutes before the clear, sharp voice of Professor McGonagall proclaimed, "The Great Hall is ready." She motioned for the ghosts to leave. "Now, form a line and follow me," she said to the first years.
Cyrna shot a small encouraging smile towards Harry before she moved back in line to stand with Daphne.
Walking into the Great Hall was just as amazing as the experience of crossing the Black Lake to Hogwarts on the boat. The ceiling of the Hall showed the beautiful starry night sky and thousands of small floating candles cast a bright, warm glow on the Hall. The four tables near the entrance of the Great Hall were lined with students whose faces were now turned towards the group of first years who were being led into the Hall. The tables were filled with golden décor and golden plates and cutlery which under the candlelight, shimmered, adding to the magical feeling of the Hall.
"Which house do you think you'll be sorted into?" whispered Daphne quietly.
"Probably Ravenclaw," muttered Cyrna, "to me, intelligence is more important than anything."
Daphne gave Cyrna a look that she couldn't quite interpret before saying, "Well, if that's the house you want to go to, I wish you good luck."
"Thanks," said Cyrna, "and you want to be in Slytherin?"
"Not necessarily," answered Daphne pensively, "but I can't imagine myself being placed anywhere else."
Cyrna silently agreed.
Reaching the front of the hall to where the teachers sat, Professor McGonagall indicated for them to stop, and she silently placed a four-legged stool in front of them. On top, she placed a worn, tattered, pointed hat.
The Sorting Hat. Cyrna watched with rapt amazement as like in the movies, the Sorting Hat sat motionless for a while before it twitched, came to life and began to sing its song. Cyrna started to pay more attention when the song began to sing of Ravenclaw and Slytherin:
"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
That sounded like her, Cyrna thought.
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends."
That also sounded like her, she thought with a frown. Well, she hastily amended, maybe not any means to achieve her end—but then again, even if it did come down to Ravenclaw and Slytherin, she would just choose Ravenclaw.
Strangely, the uneasiness in the back of her mind, which had been nagging her ever since hearing Harry ask about the houses on the Express, persisted. She watched with an indescribable feeling of impending doom as Professor McGonagall stepped forward and began reading the list of names in alphabetical order:
"Abbot, Hannah!" she called.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
"Bones, Susan…"
And the sorting continued on uninterestingly until a sharp voice calling, "Granger, Hermione!" was heard.
Cyrna felt a rush of relief when the hat yelled out after a few minutes of silence, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Moments later, she felt a hand lightly touch her arm and heard a whisper of "good luck to you" as she spun around to see Daphne walking towards the hat. The hat had just been placed on her head for a few seconds before it pronounced, "SLYTHERIN!"
Cyrna clapped and flashed a small smile at Daphne's direction as she watched her join the Slytherin table who was cheering at getting a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
"Cyrna," she heard a quiet hiss, "she's in Slytherin!"
She angled her body sideways and glanced forwards, making out the surprised face of Harry Potter.
"And?" Cyrna prompted.
Harry shifted uneasily, "well, I know she is nice—"
At this Cyrna mentally reminded herself to give Harry a talk that while Slytherins could be nice, it was not often that it came from a genuine intention to simply be nice. He would have to be careful when dealing with that house.
"—but Ron said that that was where the people who killed my parents were sorted."
Cyrna's eyes softened, "And Ron is right. That is where most of them were sorted, but not all of them. Do not be so quick to judge an entire house based on the actions of one group of people."
"I guess so," he muttered with his face scrunched up in a thoughtful expression as he turned back to face the front.
'He might still be too young to understand that the world is largely painted in greys,' she mused.
Once Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin, she tuned out the sorting as she glanced around the hall, taking in the experience of simply being in this moment. She had been casually scanning the front table where the teachers sat when her eyes locked onto the ebony orbs of a thin, sallow-skinned man who had a huge hooked nose. Curtains of pitch-black greasy hair hung limply in clumps to his shoulder.
Quickly, the look of intrigue the Professor had directed at the girl he had seen in the library morphed into a blank, emotionless gaze. His lips curled into a sneer when he caught her looking, revealing his yellow, uneven teeth.
Cyrna shivered as the feeling of disgust reflexively washed over her and she promptly averted her gaze—sure the books had said that he was unattractive and somewhat lacking in personal hygiene but reading it and seeing it in person were two very different things. This was something she was gradually coming to realize as she continued to exist in the Harry Potter universe.
Being born in the late 20th century, she had never had the misfortune of meeting anyone with such poor hygiene. This was tripled by the fact that she was often working in clean, sterile environments. The feeling of disgust that had coursed through her moments ago… despite the knowledge that he was one of her favourite characters, there was no way she could have avoided that feeling.
She tuned back to the sorting just in time to hear Professor McGonagall read:
"Potter, Harry."
Immediately fierce whispers spread through the Great Hall as the students chattered with their friends, trying to guess which house would get the boy-who-lived.
Harry's cheek turned red as he kept his gaze down and quickly walked to the hat. He caught a glimpse of Cyrna's nervous expression before his world turned dark and an old crackling voice sounded in his head, "Hm, difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage… not a bad mind either…"
Cyrna was almost as apprehensive for Harry's sorting as she was for her own. Having told Harry that Slytherins were not all evil, she desperately hoped that her spiel would not affect his sorting. If it did, she was quite ready to throw herself off a cliff for her sheer idiocy. Why she had argued for the Slytherins… she guessed that it was because she somewhat understood their perspective, having finished the Harry Potter series, and though she did not want to admit it, she also knew that she had argued for Slytherin because, quite frankly, there was a decent chance that she would be sorted into the house.
If she was sorted there, and she had not brought up her argument to Harry and Ron for the house… she shuddered to think what would become of whatever relationship she was building with Harry if she had ended up in there—though of course, she mentally chanted, she wouldn't.
It was not a smart gamble she had taken. If things went wrong, then her action would threaten the future that she knew of the Harry Potter universe. Things would have been infinitely better if she had never said anything about Slytherin. "Friendship" with Harry Potter be damned.
Wasn't her life and the security of her future more important to her than keeping a good relationship with Harry?
Realizing that she had made an incredibly selfish decision in the spur of the moment, she could only watch tensely, nibbling on her bottom lip and nervously picking at the insides of her robes as she waited... and waited… and waited for a couple more minutes. She had just been about to panic when the hat blessedly called out:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"YES!" Cyrna cried out in relief; her cheer was thankfully drowned out by the pounding and clapping from the Gryffindor tables as they enthusiastically welcomed the famed boy-who-lived into their house.
With an apologetic glance, Harry said in a fleeting whisper as he walked by Cyrna towards the Gryffindor table, "Sorry." A sad expression took over, "I just don't think I would be able to stomach being in the same house as the one who killed mum and dad."
She was about to answer when she heard the sharp voice call her name:
"Raine, Cyrna."
Black eyes by the staff table narrowed in disgust as Snape watched Potter strut towards the Gryffindor table, ready to bask in the cheers and adoration the house was already shouting towards the boy-who-lived.
Black, messy hair. The annoying facial features of James Potter completed with the round glasses that perched on the boy's face.
He's an exact replica of his father, he thought with maliciousness as he viciously gripped his wand.
His teeth gnashed in silent hatred as he glared at the back of the boy's head with irrational rage; bitterness drowned out the rational part of his mind that normally ruled his actions and ignoring the muffled voice that frantically reminded him that he was also Lily's, his thoughts morphed into one:
He is his father.
Snape had been seething for a few seconds when a movement in his peripheral vision caught his eyes.
The girl who he had seen in the bookstore with Miss Greengrass was now moving towards the hat. He gave Quirrell a sharp jab when he saw him stare strangely at the Potter boy. "What's the name of the girl who is being sorted right now?" he asked with a scowl, not willing to verbally explain that he had missed her name while he had been embroiled in his thoughts of revenge.
"Cy-Cyrna-a R-raine," Quirrell stuttered out, eyes wide in fear.
His eyes narrowed with interest as he ignored the stuttering and trembling man sitting beside him and focused his full attention on the girl. Now, if she has less than half the idiocy of a normal dunderhead, she may finally be a student worth my time, he thought as he remembered the potency of her untrained magic which he had seen for a brief moment at the bookshop.
Cyrna waited tensely for the voice to appear once the Hat was on but was met with silence.
'This isn't supposed to happen!' she thought anxiously, fidgeting on the stool. After sitting for a few more minutes which seemed like hours, she moved, prepared to lift the hat off and inquire as to whether it was broken when a sudden crackling voice stopped her.
"I'm not broken, strange child," said the Hat, "but you might be. I haven't met a mind as unnatural as yours since I was made by Godric."
Cyrna sat in tense silence for a few seconds longer before she realized the hat had gone silent again, "wait, so can you sort me?"
"I can, but there are some blacked out spots in your memory that I can't seem to see to matter what I do… and what I do see is something unbelievable…"
"What do you see?"
"Only your memories starting from the summer of 1990… but you are clearly much older than that… it's almost as if your mind exists as a separate entity from your body…"
"Just sort me somewhere based on the memories you see—or better yet, just put me in Ravenclaw," said Cyrna with a hint of exasperation. It had been minutes since the Hat had last spoken and she was becoming increasingly nervous as she began to hear whispers circulating the Great Hall.
The Hat seemed to come to life at this statement.
"Ah, but why Ravenclaw?" asked the Hat, "I agree that you would never fit in with the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs, but what about Slytherin? You know, you are quite the Slytherin too."
Cyrna hesitated before answering with the standard response she had given to anyone who had asked, "because there is nothing more important than knowledge. If you have knowledge, you virtually have the ability to attain anything you want. You could make money easily if you were highly intelligent, you would flourish in anything you wanted to do."
"You're holding back the key answer," scolded the Hat as it sensed her omission, "I'm bound by an oath to never speak of one's sorting to another, so you're only making your wait longer in lying by omission."
Cyrna scowled as she thought of her actual answer. That would definitely tip the hat to sort her into Slytherin.
She chose to remain silent.
Minutes ticked by, and the whisperings turned into normal-volume conversations between students. Some complaining that they were hungry, others furiously debating as to which house she would fall and the reasons for the hatstall. It was when she felt hands grip the hat as they attempted, but failed, to yank it off her head, that she finally decided to answer, seeing that the Hat was willing to wait for as long as it was required for her honesty.
"Because knowledge is simply the most efficient tool to survive in my world," she bit out through gritted teeth as she thought back to her past life, "While not all of the most successful people may be intellectual geniuses, the majority of them are highly intelligent—but that doesn't make me Slytherin!" she snapped.
The Hat quieted down before saying, "You know, even if you had not given me your true answer, your previous answer was still rather Slytherin."
"Why?" questioned Cyrna in panic.
"Ravenclaws learn for the sake of learning—for the simple joy they find in expanding their knowledge. I've seen your memories, and I can safely say that I have never seen a time when you would study a subject for the sake of interest."
"No! I—" Cyrna protested.
"Like your attitude towards people, you discard facts and pieces of information that you would deem—and rightfully so—as useless in your daily life while a Ravenclaw would hoard such knowledge."
"That's irrational," Cyrna scorned, "Ravenclaw is the most logical house in Hogwarts."
"Yes, but sometimes," mused the Hat, "even the most logical person may be prone to irrational judgements when faced with certain things. What one may view as irrational may be rational to another."
"But—"
"And would you not say that every, if not most, actions that you have consciously chosen to perform were to further your chances at survival—at self-preservation?"
"Yes," said Cyrna reluctantly, "but anyone, besides the altruistic Gryffindors, would have some level of self-preservation."
"I think," chuckled the had sadly, "that even among the Slytherins, you would find many willing to lay down their life for someone or for a purpose that they cared for. That is the 'sympathy' you are seeking to understand, no?"
Cyrna bristled with indignation when the hat confronted her directly with her flaw. What was the difference between a human and an intelligent machine if the human could not sympathize? This was a question she had frequently asked herself since her realization of her abnormality when faced with her aunt's death. Despite the crying, the mourning that she was surrounded by, she had felt nothing… nothing but the strange sense that life would be different—not worse, just… different.
Well, nothing. Perhaps one may live longer than the other, but ultimately, the thing that defines being alive versus an inanimate object is gone.
When she had realized this, she had worked as hard as she could to learn what she lacked, but the simple knowledge that everyone seemed to grasp reflexively as a child, continuously slipped from her grasp. Just when she thought she almost understood, something would happen, leaving her more confused than before.
How could she be the best if she couldn't even pass her own qualifications in being human?
The Hat listened to her thoughts without judgement.
"But what am I, if not defined by my intelligence?" Cyrna wondered bitterly to the Hat. That was all people had praised and complimented her for in her past world. "Take it away and you are left with nothing—nothing special at least. Knowledge and intelligence are important to me," she restated. "Ravenclaw would help me develop my strengths—develop me."
There was a pause before the Hat responded sadly, "It's tragic to see someone so young think the way you do."
Cyrna's breath caught in her throat. Was she being pitied?
"Truly, you could be so much more than your intelligence and knowledge if you would just give yourself a chance… and it is for this reason that I will sort you in—"
"Wait—" cried Cyrna when she realized what the hat was going to say. However it was all for naught for once the Hat made its decision, it would stay with it. She watched with a sick and helpless feeling as her finely knit plans for surviving the Harry Potter universe shattered before her eyes when the Hat seemingly proclaimed the one word which would condemn her:
"SLYTHERIN!"