The Sorting Hat
Miranda Silver, Episode 1
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind....
Slowly, she closed the door to the dormitory. She sat down at the desk and opened her potions text. Unrolling an empty parchment scroll, she struggled to remember everything Snape had said- between looking daggers at Mitchell and making snide comments about the ineptitude of the entire class- about Invisibility Potions.
"A two scroll essay by Monday," she seethed under her breath, "honestly! Who does he think he is?"
Miranda usually enjoyed Potions, unlike most students at Hogwarts. She relished the feeling of carefully creating a draught that could bring life- or death. It was so much more scientific than a lot of wand-waving- not that she didn't like Charms. Quite the opposite was true. She loved little Professor Flitwick and the general sense of mirth he seemed to bring to the classroom-
Miranda realized that she was stalling again. She couldn't understand why she couldn't focus on Potions lately. She was usually top in her class. She had even gotten a seldom, reluctant smile from Snape and usually escaped his verbal barbs.
She realized that she was stalling yet another time. Really, she mustn't let her mind wander like this anymore. She started on the essay.
Miranda was two-thirds of a scroll into the essay when one of her roommates, Anna, walked in. The 12 Ravenclaw 5th years were housed in triangular rooms. One dorm went from a point; the next went in. Miranda, Anna, and Isis's dorm went out- Anna's bed was on the left, Isis's against the back wall, and Miranda's on the right. Anna bounded in with her usual energy.
"Working on that paper for Snape?" she asked incredulously. "It's Thursday! Come on, you can work on it later. We'll miss dinner if you don't hurry up!"
"Alright, alright," she said, putting away the scroll. She picked up her bag and followed Anna out the door.
aaaa
Miranda never truly got over the sight of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Even though she had grown up in a large wizard's manor house, she had never seen its equal. She had seen many things in these past 4 years- Christmas feasts, Halloween celebrations, and other not so pleasant occurrences. She would never forget what happened in her first week here.
aaaa
The ride from London on the Hogwarts Express was exciting. Miranda had never been on a train before. Her parents usually went everywhere in their chauffeured car to avoid muggles. She remembered quite clearly the vivid scenery and the treats from the cart.
Her memory of the Sorting was especially clear. Her mother and father always told her about the Sorting Hat and their own Sortings, always taking care to tell her that she would make a wonderful Slytherin. Her heart was racing when she first saw the hall. She heard a girl behind her say that the ceiling was bewitched to look like the sky outside. Charm or not, the sight was amazing. After the Sorting Hat sang its venerable song, the students went up one by one. Her anxiety increased when she saw her old friend, Draco, go into Slytherin.
Her stomach dropped when she heard Professor McGonagall finally announce, "Silver, Miranda!" Timidly, she sat down on the stool and placed the hat on her head.
A tiny voice whispered in her ear. "Slytherin? Why would you want to be there? No, no, that's not the right house at all. Mother and Daddy were wrong, dear; you're a natural born RAVENCLAW!"
Her heart sank. Draco was shocked. She was shocked. Dazed, she stumbled over to the cheering Ravenclaw table. The rest of the Sorting was a blur. Someone whispered from down the table that Harry Potter, that boy everyone seemed to be talking about, went to Gryffindor.
"Big surprise," she thought, but she said nothing. Her mind was still racing. Ravenclaw? What would her parents say?
Her anxieties quickly vanished with the beginning of the feast. She had even more fun in the Ravenclaw common room meeting the rest of her class. That night, she met Isis and Anna, who soon became her best friends at Hogwarts. Later, lying in bed with her new pet cat, Bastet, she thought it was the happiest day of her life.
She owled her parents first thing the next morning to tell them how much fun she was having and that she was a Ravenclaw. She didn't think about it again until the next week when the mail came. Her family owl, Apollo, flew in bearing a strange red envelope.
"Oh no, hit the deck," groaned Penelope, a Prefect. She stuck her fingers in her ears. Other students hid under the table and buried their heads in their bags. Not knowing what the fuss was, she opened it.
"MIRANDA ARTEMIS SILVER!"
An unearthly screaming filled the Hall. Her usually calm father's voice, magnified a thousand times, screamed violently at her. She stuck her fingers in her ears, but to no avail. Andrew M. Silver made himself heard.
"NEVER IN ALL MY LIFE- MY OWN DAUGHTER TURNED HER BACK ON THE FAMILY- SLYTHERIN NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER- BETRAYED ME- YOU MARCH DOWN TO DUMBLEDORE'S OFFICE RIGHT NOW AND TRANFER THIS INSTANT, D'YOU HEAR ME?- WE'LL SEE IF I LET YOU COME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS! I MIGHT AS WELL LEAVE YOU UP THERE!- NEVER IN ALL MY DAYS- THE SHOCK WILL KILL YOUR GRANDFATHER- MIGHT AS WELL BRING YOU HOME!!"
After an eternity, the howler burned to nothing. There was an eerie silence. Even the Slytherins looked genuinely sorry for her. Face burning, she tried to figure out why he was so angry. She had no clue what he would do if she wasn't in Slytherin. The thought stuck her suddenly- she had never asked. On the verge of crying, she picked up her books and slunk off to Dumbledore's office. After she left, a light mist of talking finally rose up from the tables.
She was lead up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, by the keeper of the grounds, Hagrid, who had found her trembling in the hall looking for the headmaster.
"Foun' this one lookin' for you, 'eadmaster. Says she wants to transfer to Slytherin, though I don't see why," the giant said, patting her on the shoulder.
"Thank you, Hagrid," the old wizard said. "I'll talk to her now."
"Alright," he replied, leaving.
"I heard all about the Howler this morning, Miss Silver." So that's what those things were called. "So, you want to transfer to Slytherin?"
"All my family is in Slytherin... I think there's a mistake, I shouldn't be in Ravenclaw, I should be in Slytherin, too," she stammered.
He chuckled. "So, that's what this is all about? Do you want to be in Slytherin?" he asked.
She hadn't thought about it. He read her expression like he had read so many other students'. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you a few days to think about it; then if you still want to be in Slytherin, I'll talk to Severus about transferring you," he said soothingly. He led her back to class.
aaaa
Miranda never went back to Dumbledore's office. She didn't go home for Christmas, but she went back for Easter to an incredible remorseful father. He begged her forgiveness, and even gave her a silver quill holder as a peace offering. All these scenes ran rapid-fire through her mind every time she walked into the Great Hall.
She sat down across from Isis at the Ravenclaw table.
"What's for dinner?" she asked. As if in response, the plates filled with the usual delicious fare. The house tables buzzed with customary dinner talk- what a stupid git some professor was, how unbearable potions was today, who was caught in the common room in the middle of the night and with whom. Adding to the excitement was the fact that the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor quidditch match was to be played on Saturday, the first match of the Cup. Miranda was the only female beater at Hogwarts.
Greg, the captain and other beater, sat down next to her.
"Bad news, Randa," he sighed. "Gryffindor got special permission to have the quidditch field to themselves tonight."
"But the match is in two days!" she groaned.
"I know, I know," he said, with a wild glint in his eye. "But I got special permission for tomorrow afternoon."
"Alright! That'll show them," she laughed. It was quite alright to book the quidditch field at any other time, but the week before a match was rude. "Really, it's not like the field isn't big enough for two teams! They're just so obsessed with secrecy, as if we could never possibly figure out their incredibly complex and secret moves," she said, rolling her eyes.
They finished dinner, glared at the Gryffindor team for a moment, and went up to the Ravenclaw common room. It was a massive room, decorated like an old library, with high ceilings and an enormous fireplace. It went up to the top of the tower, flanked on either side by the dorms. Staircases wound from the floor all the way up to the 2nd year dorms on the top. The common room wasn't as formal as the Slytherins', as noisy as the Gryffindors', and certainly not as bright as the Hufflepuffs'. It fit the Ravenclaws perfectly.
She sat down at a table and continued writing her potions essay. Not long after she sat down, Greg, who was also her potions class, joined her.
"How much have you got?" he asked. "I've barely got a third a scroll, and I'm out of ideas."
"I'm not much better off," she answered, pushing a few strands of black hair behind her ear. "I've finished the first scroll, but my best idea for the second one is to draw a cauldron and call it an art project."
"I'm not sure Snape's an art fan," he laughed. "You could write and tell him how wonderful he is and how absolutely smashing it would be to be in Slytherin, and how much you love that hairdo."
"I'd be better off writing about how his talents are wasted and how he would be a perfect Dark Arts teacher," she joked.
Greg chuckled. "I know he could teach Dark Arts, but what about defense against them?" he queried.
"I bet his lessons would consist of his attacking the class and us defending ourselves," she replied.
They struggled on through the essay together. Suddenly, hours later, she looked at her watch.
"Do you know what time it is! We better get to bed," she said anxiously.
"Wouldn't want the perfect Prefect to be a bad example," he said sarcastically. They gathered their books and climbed the three flights to the fifth year dorms.
aaaa
Miranda woke up in a cold sweat. She looked at the watch on her bedside table. It was 2:30 in the morning. She'd had the dream again. She struggled to push it out of her mind. Finally, she fell asleep.
