The Ceremony
The cool almost bone-chilling breeze was let in by the window Lyra was sitting next to. Tickling her silky hair, not that it bothered the youngest Potter in any way.
The older girl sitting opposite her, Daphne Greengrass if she remembers correctly, after rolling the thought a couple of times over that surname seemed mildly familiar.
Lyra doesn't dwell on this for long, the blue-eyed witch grabbing her attention would do something like that.
''So, what house do you think you'll be in?''
She hums in her mind, Lyra has had this thought quite a few times in the last month, and if she's being honest with herself either of the Four suits her perfectly.
''I'm not sure.'' Removing her delicate fingers from her naturally pouty lips. ''What about you? What house are you from?''
The Pre-Teen curiosity couldn't help but slide ahead, Daphne was the first person from Hogwarts she's actually met, a student at the very least.
''I think my cloaks says it all.''
Green was the thing about Daphne's that stood out like a sore thumb, and if her memory serves her correctly…
''Slytherin?''
Lyra has read books stacked on top of books, and she faintly remembers something about the colours of each individual house.
And a green, the same shade as her idiotic brother's eyes, was the colour of Slytherin if her brain wasn't fizzling out on her.
''Spot on.''
The way Daphne's eyes were being weighed by something mysterious, they seemed to twinkle like the shining moon at one moment but they reverted back to their normal stoic gaze just as quickly.
And the older girls' rosy lipstick curved slightly, no more than an inch but they quickly flew down back into their regular line.
Quite unusual indeed.
A squeak cries out, and a foul odour streams through the decently sized compartment.
The sudden way the gut-wrenching smell was screwed in made her stomach plunge.
Rapid huffs, Lyra listened to them with full clarity.
''Darn it!'' He who slammed their compartment, rudely at that, and with his jaw hanging like an idiot.
''Can we help you with something?'' Daphne asks, those frosty blue eyes may just freeze the smelly boy into an ice cube.
''Mhm, have you seen the Potter? The Boy Who Lived?''
Her inky eyes are squeezed shut, masking the hidden intent behind them.
All she had heard today was that mouthful of a title, over, and over again, a cycle that was looping around without an end in sight.
It was scraping against her simmering vexation, and it may just splash, hell, eventually it'll shape into a full-blown flood.
The temperature of the room drops further than the wind could ever hope to replicate.
When two eyes unlocked they were shadowed by the way her hair framed them.
Begone! Lyra screams inside of her mind.
''I guess that a n-''
Not letting the worm murmur anything else. He screeches like the coward he was as his body was flung from their compartment.
A squeal would've sounded, not that Lyra could hear it. In the same way that he was thrown, she did the same to the door, shutting it that is.
A silent breath came, and just like that, the coldness jumped out of the glass windows.
The revolting stench too, it vanished even quicker than the chilly air.
And with a quiet sniffle of the nose, those bottled up feelings were sucked away quicker than quicksand when it found its victims to devour.
Some people would've called that harsh, no, most would, a simple question is what it was, but the multitude of times that godforsaken inquiry has been thrown in her direction today has become... grating.
It was like a mosquito that wouldn't sod off, and each time that question reared its fathead the more her composure was being sucked from her.
Why though?
Why was it getting to her so much? Why was it digging under her skin? Sure It should be a slight irritation, but nothing that could slither under her armour.
Yet it did, like a bomb she exploded, not that she regrets it.
She doesn't regret a single thing, nor has she ever.
Regret was bad, it made you feel like rubbish littered in the garbage can.
''Oh? Wandless Magic?''
As that voice called out her body stilted not unlike a straight board.
She saw She saw, She Saw!
After an intake of breath a realisation hits. Her fingers, legs, and every limb snap from the tough board they were stuck in.
''You saw that?'' Lyra's hands slide to her lap.
''I wasn't certain.'' The blonde responds.
It could've been the wind.
''That's quite impressive for a first-year, I don't believe to have seen someone so young use wandless magic like that before.'' Daphne compliments.
A crimson blush dusts her pale cheeks, and her stomach churns.
A compliment? She hasn't received one of them….. how long has it been? Has one ever been directed towards her before?
The blush drains away, sitting up with a greater posture than before.
''Thanks.''
Flicking the locks of hair that sunk just behind her ears.
Her shady eyes flicker. The night sky with not a glimmer of light remaining. A myriad of water that seemed more like bullets to the naked eye. drenching the speedy train, and the tracks that the machine was skating along.
The nimble bones under her skin relax at the wet sight. Her eyes were glued to the window as the fresh scent entered her snout.
Drip Drop… Drip Drop… Drip Drop…
Even if didn't touch her she could still feel it, as if it was gliding down her slender frame.
Her footsteps click but it's quickly overshadowed by the raging voices.
Every breath she takes was blocked out by the whispers that weren't hushed as they should've been.
Her two dark pupils jump about, not pausing for more than an instant.
The voices planted in her brain smacking away the first yeard at every turn.
A stench… no it wasn't a stench, it wasn't a terrible odour, nor was it an enjoyable one, it was just there, existing in the ever-flowing air.
Climbing up the spiralling staircase, the floorboards creaking at every silent step she takes.
The teacher who was leading them was the same Professor Lyra met a month back, Professor McGonagall.
The silence wrapped around her like a cocoon, and she wouldn't be broken out of it until the massive door that towered over every individual insight slammed open.
Even if she was at the back of the crowd she was taller than most of the first years, only a few of the boys blocked her vision.
She moved past the oddly huge door as one of the final students to do so.
Aura's of excitement circling around the first years became palpable, most of them anyway.
A flash of blonde wielding that shade compels her eyes to freeze, it didn't last for long, however, uncurling that stare before it could become apparent.
''When I call your name you will come forth.'' That voice zapped out from her trance.
Huh?
Eyes skipping to the other first years as confusion snowed down into her heart.
''Hermione Granger.''
A bushy-haired girl walked forwards with her skull lowered to the ground.
Granger? Granger? That Granger? Who would've known?
The Granger fell down into a chair… Why is she doing that? And then a hat is placed on her head, one with a pointed edge, like a witches hat.
A hidden narrow enters Lyra's unlit eyes, both of them,
''Ravenclaw!'' The Hat just… shouted.
A hat that could vocalise its thought wasn't something that was expected, but it wasn't a massive shock either.
Magic was well… Magical.
''Draco Malfoy.'' Professor McGonagall called out.
A boy whose most prominent feature was his pointed chin swaggered up near the living and breathing hat.
Malfoy, Malfoy? That family?
It settled on his head for a time that dwarfed Hermiones.
''Hufflepuff!''
Heh?
Draco wrenches the hat that was planted on his head, wearing an expression that screams of horror.
''W-what the?'' He utters in a voice that sounded rather confused.
''Mr Malfoy, you are to go forth to the Hufflepuffs table,'' McGonagall says.
''No way! The hat was wrong! I demand a retry!'' He spits out in a hurry.
''Mr Malfoy.'' Professor McGonagall voice takes a more stern approach.
''I'm a Slytherin!'' His voice was getting progressively louder and louder the longer this went on.
Is a fight going to start?
''Mr Malfoy this is my last warning.'' Her voice showed no more room for further conflict.
His breath hitched, and his teeth clatter, and when Lyra thought that was over one last thing came.
''My father will hear about this! I'll be resorted yet!'' He storms off to the table with the Hufflepuffs scattered down the table.
''Ron Weasley!''
A ginger appeared, that wasn't his most eye-catching feature however, those freckles stole that achievement.
''Gryffindor!''
It answered quickly, even quicker than Hermione's sorting.
''Fleamont Potter!''
''Fleamont Potter? You mean that Potter?'' One of the first-year questions.
''Of course, it is! He has the scar and everything… I wonder if I can get an autograph!''
The mutters and whispers that were more along the line of screams and screeches prolonged.
Her teeth that held an inhuman tint to them snapped down on her gums, and a taste that was so incredibly metallic came about.
The Male Potter trudged onwards, his front teeth nibbling his lips like a hamster, stinky sweat oozing from his fingertips.
His back bent as soon as the hat slumped over his head, it was an absolutely perfect fit.
And silence, not a single voice materialised, not even a whisper was sounded.
Time drummed on, and the longer it went on the quieter the room became.
Not too dissimilar to the bottom of an ocean, a slice of surprise stabs at her.
It was just so incredibly quiet, even the teachers were holding their breaths
And for what? The Boy Who Lived? How gullible could one be?
Stupidity at its finest, refined over for what? Years?
''Gryffindor!''
The quietness that was cloaked in all sections was torn apart, an applause so loud that her eardrums popped.
''We got the Potter! We got the Potter! We got the Potter!''
What is this? A collectors favourite?
The dumb faced bastard stumbled over to the Gryffindor table, not unlike the fool he most definitely was.
''Haha! I knew you were gonna be one of us mate!'' The ginger spoke, his hand slapping her fool of a brother's back.
''Lyra Potter!''
About time!
Zipping in between the other first years that were in her way, not paying a portion of attention to the obvious ogles pointed towards the back of her head.
''Potter? I thought there was only one left!'' A boy whispers.
''Wow! I didn't know the Boy Who Lived had a sister!'' Another boy makes a sound.
''Darn… I wish I was his sister!'' This time it was a girl.
''Oh my goodness! She has really long hair!''
That long hair as that girl so eloquently put it hid the way her eyebrows scrunched into each other.
Her heart was punching her chest. She wasn't nervous. Her heart aches worse than her limbs would've after running multiple miles. She really wasn't.
Her face sustains those doll-like features she normally pulls up.
With poise not expected from a girl her age, she pillaged the seat with her bottom.
''Oooh! Lookey at we have here!''
Her legs jiggle at the sudden intrusion of her mind.
So, you can see through my mind?
Stomping down, forcing her legs to stop bobbing about.
''Hah? You got that on your first try.'' It said.
I thought there was a possibility of it, I wasn't entirely certain though, that's why I asked.
''Oooh! Perhaps a Ravenclaw?'' It muses.
I'm fine with that, as long as I don't get sent to Gryffindor I don't care which house I end up in. She shrugs her shoulders.
''Haha? Not a big fan of your brother?'' It sounded almost amused.
I didn't realise you were supposed to be this talkative. She mutters dimly.
''Only to the interesting ones!''
Was that meant to be a compliment? Lyra really doesn't know what she should take that as.
And I'm interesting how?' She questioned, her curiosity on full display.
''Why not? It isn't every day I meet a young lady with some shields up.'' He reveals with intense mirth.
She curves an eyebrow at that sudden reply.
Shields? She asks another question.
''Don't play with me little girl, I'm not as idiotic as some people.'' Some anger was revealed on its invisible tongue:
Fighting the scratchy want to blast this hat as she did to that smelly First Year.
I seriously don't know what you mean.
''Well no matter, you can play that game, I'll just force them down!'' It shouts at a high pitch.
Her eyes scrunched shut as a screwdriver was jammed into her brain. She had to choke down on her moans if she didn't want an embarrassing noise to scream out.
It was as if her skull was being slashed open, and pieces of her brain were thrown out like nothing.
Yet the pain that was absolutely unbearable, the pain that was worse than anything the Devil could dish out suddenly left.
Was it her imagination? Or was it something the bastard hat did to her?
''Oh interesting, how very interesting Miss Potter.''
Her two eyes, her two achy eyes sling open.
Can you just sort me already?
''One moment Miss Potter.'' It said in a voice that was comparatively calmer than it was prior.
''Oh my, you're so much like your mother yet so different at the same time.'' It slipped out easily.
Wait... You knew my mother?
''I've met with her a few times… she always seemed rather mean.'' It said sadly.
Really? She inquired suspiciously.
''Oh yes, very much so! Anyways… I think it's time to sort you, don't you agree?'' The words came out so fast she barely registered them.
I do. She answered without a thought.
Her gut rises, anticipation munching away at her like a snake bite.
''There's only one house you'll fit into. You're the antithesis of what Gryffindor represents. And what about Hufflepuff? No, that won't do, you don't have a kind bone, or even a trusting bone in your body. Ravenclaw? You're definitely smart enough to become one of them and strive as one of the very best, but there's one other house you'll strive even further in''
''The answer is clear, it has been ever since I entered your mind, you represent everything Salazar would consider an ideal student with the magical power to back it up as a plus.
Oh? That house… ah, screw it.
''Slytherin!''