SORTED.
Whispers echoed in the cavernous Great Hall as Drusilla entered, at the end of a long line of first-years. The thought that she should be embarrassed briefly crossed her mind, but she paid it no heed. It wasn't an easy thing to embarrass Drusilla Lacroix – in fact, it had never yet happened. And she certainly wasn't going to feel ashamed of herself simply because she was the only new student at Hogwarts who wasn't eleven years old or younger. It wasn't as though she'd never studied magic before.
Drusilla stood perfectly still as the sorting took place. She'd heard of this ritual – a prefect at Durmstrang had told her of it in her first year. It all seemed rather silly to Drusilla- whoever heard of leaving such decisions to a piece of headwear? And an old, tattered one at that, as she could see from the back of the room. She shook her head slightly, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself (like that was possible) but unable to hide her disdain for these silly Hogwarts traditions. The trip over the lake with the first-years had been bad enough; now she had to be told by an old hat where and with whom she should spend the next two years of her school life. It was laughable.
"Abrams, Liam!" a stern-looking, dark-haired witch called out.
A small, frightened-looking boy shuffled over to the stool and sat down on it, pulling the Sorting Hat over his eyes as if to hide from the crowd of students. He sat that way for a good thirty seconds, and Drusilla had to wonder why it took so long for the Hat to make up its mind. Perhaps it was developing Alzheimer's, she thought wryly.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Drusilla jumped as a huge cheer came from one of the centre tables. Liam Abrams slid off the three-legged stool, took off the Hat and ran over to his new housemates looking relieved.
"Brackewitz, Michaela!"
The girl, whose long red hair had hidden half her face, was barely on the stool for three seconds when the Hat shouted "RAVENCLAW!" and a cheer erupted from another of the long house tables. She was met by her new housemates with handshakes and grins of approval.
The stern-looking witch continued through the list of names, and Drusilla was surprised to find her stomach do a small back flip as they came nearer to the Ls. She couldn't be nervous, Drusilla told herself. It was just a silly old hat. And it wasn't as if she cared which house she was sorted into. She had no prejudices.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. The only student she knew from Hogwarts was her dear Cousin, a proud Slytherin to the core. Drusilla vaguely wondered if all snivelling, cowardly, bossy, antagonistic little snots were sorted into Slytherin.
'All right then,' she thought to herself. 'As long as I'm not in Slytherin, I'll be happy.'
The group of unsorted students became smaller and smaller as the Sorting Hat made its way through the alphabet. Much to her disdain, Drusilla found her stomach was suddenly full of butterflies as "Labore, Cynthia!" was sorted into Ravenclaw. Outwardly, however, she showed no emotion. Her face was blank, her hands were still and her arms hung straight down at her sides.
"Lacroix, Drusilla!"
A renewed cacophony of whispers echoed in the Great Hall, and a couple of people giggled a way off to her right, but Drusilla's face remained impassive and she looked straight ahead. She sat down on the three-legged stool and the stern-looking witch placed the hat on her head. She was not prepared for the voice that was suddenly inside her head, clearing its throat.
'Well, well, well… You're an odd one, aren't you? Hmmm, let me think. You're quite clever, that's a certainty. But are you clever enough for Ravenclaw? You definitely wouldn't make a good Hufflepuff – I don't believe you've ever worked hard in your life, and as for loyalty… well, that's yet to be determined I suppose. Now, Slytherin, I think that might be the one for you…'
'No! Not Slytherin!' Drusilla thought anxiously.
'Not Slytherin?' The Hat chuckled. 'Believe me, you're not the first student to ask that, and you won't be the last. But are you sure you'd fit in with the Gryffindors? I suppose there are certain qualities you possess…'
The Hat paused a long moment, and Drusilla sat on the stool repeating her mantra in her head. 'Not Slytherin… Not Slytherin…"
Finally, the Hat spoke again. 'No, I think you're wrong.'
"SLYTHERIN!"
"No!"
There was a stunned sort of silence, and Drusilla suddenly realised she'd said the last word aloud. The Hat was removed from her head, but it took Drusilla several seconds to move. Eventually, the witch holding the Hat tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to make way for the next student. So this was what embarrassment felt like.
Drusilla walked to the long Slytherin table, but instead of being welcomed by cheering and handshakes, there was only a half-hearted sort of clapping and several indignant glares. Draco caught her eye and nodded approvingly, a cocky sort of smirk on his face. She looked down at the table in front of her and did not look up again until it was time to leave.
Across the room, the head of Slytherin watched the sullen girl, feeling somewhat resentful towards her, though he vaguely realised his anger would have been better directed towards Lucius Malfoy.
Still, it made him feel so much better to hate her just a little bit. It was easier than pitying her, though Merlin knows she'd deserve pity once he had undertaken the task he so dreaded.
