Sorting, or

To Do Poor Sinners Good

Chapter 10

Hogwarts was the most wonderful place Lucia had ever seen. Of course she knew all about it, about the ghosts and the moving staircases and the paintings that made you give passwords, about the Whomping Willow and the bewitched ceiling in the Great Hall and the different House common rooms. Hogwarts, A History and Miss Precipa had seen to that. But of course it was different actually being here.

She was glad that the grandeur of the castle was distracting the First Years' attention from her. When they had all gotten off the train and she had been herded with the youngest students toward the boats for the ride across the lake (with the huge man named Hagrid, whom of course she'd heard of), they had all stared at her and huddled away from her. By now everyone on the train had probably heard who she was. She wondered, rather sadly, how many of them had parents hurt or even killed by her father. They were so small, these ten- and eleven-year olds, and most of them had probably been involved in the War far more than she had. She tried to smile at them, but it felt false.

But they quickly forgot about her when they saw the castle, and now they were too busy worrying about the Sorting to worry about her. She couldn't help worrying about it herself. What if the Hat didn't put her in the right House? Why was it left up to a Hat, anyway?
The great doors opened, and they all began the long walk down the middle of the Hall, between long tables. Everyone cheered for them, but she saw people near her give her glances from wide and frightened eyes. She put her hand in her pocket and stroked Victoria's soft little head. The kitten paid no attention, going right on sleeping.

At the front of the Hall was the High Table, and there were all the teachers she had always heard of and never seen. There was the little old ghost, Professor Binns, and the half-goblin Professor Flitwick, the spiky-haired Madame Hooch and the rather vague-looking Professor Trelawney, the wild-looking Hagrid and the precise-looking Professor Sinistra, among others. And in the middle was Professor McGonagall, tall, thin, looking tired and old but nonetheless stern and upright. She was welcoming them all in her slightly creaky, precise Scottish voice, drawing their attention to the Sorting Hat—but all the attention was on it anyway.

So odd a thing to hold your future in its—not hands. Brim, maybe. What if it didn't believe her? She knew where she ought to be, but what if it had other ideas about the best place for a Malfoy descendant? After all, what were a fifteen-year old's ideas next to the expertise of a hundreds-of-years-old…Hat?

The first child (Adams, Leona) was sorted to Gryffindor and, dazed-looking, received much tumultuous applause. Never had Gryffindor been so popular. The second child (Backus, Barclay) was sorted to Hufflepuff and looked slightly disappointed, but the Hufflepuffs were no less cordial in their welcome. And then, unexpectedly, it was her name called out by Professor McGonagall.

"Bonnefoy, Lucia!"

The entire Great Hall became deadly quiet. The students at the front stared at her; the ones at the back craned to see if it really was true, that Draco Malfoy's doppelgänger had come to haunt Hogwarts. Even the professors stared, and she caught a couple of them giving Professor McGonagall uncertain looks, as if they couldn't believe she had allowed this particular student in or were expecting her to discover a mistake suddenly. But instead Lucia sat on the stool, clutching her cold hands together, and the hat was placed on her head.

Oh, interesting, said a voice in her ear—in her head, really. Another Malfoy. Haven't had one of these in years.

"Bonnefoy," Lucia murmured.

Bonnefoy, is it? "Good-faith." That's an interesting name for a child of Lucius Malfoy. I remember him. It would serve him right if you went into Hufflepuff, wouldn't it? Give everyone quite a shock.

"Yes, it would."

And you'd do well there, too. You'd be a leader. What do you say to that?

Lucia said nothing.

Well, I agree with you. Not Hufflepuff. You could go anywhere, really. How about Gryffindor?

"I'm not brave enough for Gryffindor."

Oho, aren't you? Shall we try it and see?

"No."

Mind of your own. That's the Ravenclaw in you. You'll do admirably in Ravenclaw. Help bring it out of obscurity. That's what you want, isn't it? To make your House prosper? Ravenclaw will prosper under you, your brains, your ideas. So, let's make it—

"Slytherin, please."

Slytherin… the voice purred in her head. That's a pretty place for a girl who insists on being called "Light of Good Faith" instead of her family name. I thought you claimed to be not like the Malfoys.

"I'm not. That's why I want to go there."

Oho, you're a deep one. Slytherins are deep, it's true. But what about that famous Slytherin ambition? You don't want to take over the world.

"You can be ambitious without wanting to take over the world. Anyway, you said it yourself. I want to make my House great. Truly great, not just powerful. Isn't that ambition enough for you?"

That is ambition indeed, the Hat said, sounding slightly reluctant. You want control over these little children's minds.

"Not control. Influence. Like Professor Dumbledore had. Especially for those children—like my brother—who have nothing but bad influences in their lives. How can they choose good if they're never shown it? And no one good seems to want into Slytherin these days. That's how it went so bad: all the good influences got put into brave, noble Gryffindor, kind, good Hufflepuff, and smart, wise Ravenclaw. So what was left to Slytherin? Nothing but bad apples."

Little Bonnefoy, you make a convincing argument. Are you sure? Because life will be much easier in Ravenclaw.

"My life has always been easy. Unfairly easy. I don't need it to be easy."

After a moment of silence, the hat said, Dumbledore was right about you.

"About me? About what?"

Not my place to tell.

"Then don't taunt me."

Ooh, snappish, just like a Slytherin.

"How's this for ambition? Some day I'm going to be Headmistress of Hogwarts."

The Hat snickered in her ear. Fine. Have it your way, little—"SLYTHERIN!"it bellowed aloud, making her jump and making Victoria in her pocket wake up and give a warning scratch at her leg. Only then did she realize how long she'd been sitting on the stool. Had there ever been such a long deliberation before?

There was no applause when she got down, as there had been for the others. Professor McGonagall was looking stunned, even displeased. She gave Lucia one sharp look out of green eyes and then, deliberately, began clapping. The Great Hall slowly followed her lead, and Lucia walked over to the strangely sparse Slytherin table, where the few students there looked like they didn't know if they were glad she was there or not.