The name's Emerald. Emerald Tromdlov. I don't expect for you to actually know who I am. No one does. Usually I'm the vague shadow in the background, hiding in the shadows of others' glories, praying not to be noticed. This is quite an easy thing to do really, to disappear, while staying in plain sight. Becoming invisible is a long developed quality that I pride myself in. One of the few albeit, but it's still there. It's simple, I'll explain. First you must actually want to vanish. Not in the exact literal sense, though it is quite similar really. I don't mean to disappear without a trace, never to be seen again of course. Because, though invisible I am, I still must bask in the light at times, even if it may be dim and unnoticed by most.

Anyways, I'm getting off the topic. It would seem very rational to have to want to disappear to actually disappear. You must slowly fade away at first, so that those who even pay the slightest speck of attention to you aren't wont to notice. Gradually withdrawing into yourself certainly takes the patience of a saint, but if you're willing enough, it will happen. Eventually people will, slowly but surely, begin to leave you to yourself, and quit trying to rip you from your self-contained shell. Ultimately they will cease to remember who you are, or at best, have an indistinct memory of you. They probably will never be able to bring your name to mind...this is what has happened to me, after years of hard work, I've perfected it in all its ways.

Maybe I was wrong about this being so easy; in fact it is a considerably difficult task to take at hand. But keep in mind it can be done. I'm living proof. My name is Emerald Tromdlov, and I am nonexistent to this dubious world...

"Emerald! Emerald Tromdlov!" Professor McGonagall called. Here it is, the moment of truth. Finally arrived. My sorting ceremony... Yes, moment of truth indeed. These next few seconds will determine the rest of my life...or at least the next seven years. I don't know if I should be excited, about to throw up, or run out of the Great Hall as fast as my legs can possibly carry me...I know I should be feeling one of these, all of these, or at least something. Yet somehow, I find myself incapable of feeling anything...at all. Oh, well. I guess seven years of suppressing all emotions might have something to do with it...nah! Hee-hee."Ms. Tromdlov?" Professor McGonagall repeated with a mild hint of puzzlement. Oops! Guess I got a little caught up in my thoughts! I slowly approached the bench. I never knew it possible for a mere bench to look so foreboding, yet here it did. I tentatively took a seat, and with a small smile of encouragement from Professor McGonagall, the hat was placed on my head.

Let me tell you, I don't think I'll ever forget this moment; well it was quite a deal longer than a moment really. In truth, was more on the lines of a quarter of an hour...or maybe longer still. Oh well! It does not matter! My point continuing...when the sorting cap was first placed atop my head; there was a half-hearted interest in the hall sprinkled here and there. Not many were paying attention at this point. And I mean, who could blame them? They'd spent the past hour and half watching a horde of 11 yr. Olds being sorted into the various houses. Watching little kids being sorted can only hold so much appeal for so long. I was the last person to be called naturally, so this and all else combined are substantial reasoning enough for the extreme lack of interest. Anyways, I'm beginning to ramble.

So there I sat, waiting for the hat to say something, anything. But it did not, well not at first. I could tell that something was doing a great deal of scrutinizing, they just couldn't figure out exactly what they thought of me. And of course by 'they' I mean the sorting hat. So here I sat, and there every body in the hall sat...waiting...and waiting more still...and then more waiting. The people surrounding me slowly began to notice something wasn't quite right, why was this girl sitting on the stool with the sorting hat on her head if she'd already been sorted. But of course she hadn't indeed been sorted yet, so those whispers died down rather quickly, only to be replaced by more. What was going on here? Why wasn't the hat saying something? The teachers were getting a little nervous. Never in all the history of Hogwarts had this ever happened before! Something must be wrong, maybe this girl doesn't belong here after all, maybe she was a mistake, it could happen...And just when Professor McGonagall was about to take the hat, it spoke.

I find it rather odd, a hat talking, as if it has a mind of it's own. It's...it's unnatural...But who am I to say a hat can't think for itself and talk for itself? No one. Exactly, I couldn't say anything about it, because it really has just as much right to speak and think as me. Maybe even more! Who knows? The point is, the hat talked, and what it had to say was by far, one of the most interesting things that I've ever heard in my short time on this planet as of yet.

"This girl. She's unusual, VERY unusual...strange...she seems to distinctly calling towards one house, but at the same moment her soul yearns for another, and even stranger still her destiny seems to be solely bound to yet another house. This is a girl of many desires... none of which are ever expressed. She wants so many things, but will never suggest to you that she is anything less than satisfied. No matter how untrue this may be. I can not decide for this girl. Her house must be chosen of her own will. I am steadfast in my decision. This girl CANNOT be accepted into any house, she must stay separate until her moment comes. Not an instant sooner." With that the hat closed its mouth and waited in silence...

A/N: Hope you liked it! This is my first fanfic I've ever posted so I'll appreciate any comments or advice you may have! Thanks again!