The Sorting Hat Says:
Sydney fiddled with the sleeve of her robe and listened to the thrum of the train.
"… what they say about ghosts, anyway. I personally believe we can't make that conclusion until all other options are explored."
"Yes, yes. Well, I must confess, I didn't pay much attention to that part of Hogwarts, A History. I was more interested in what it had to say about the layout of the castle. Some of it is absolutely genius, but the rest just doesn't make sense." Sydney was spouting sentences without really listening to what she was saying. "I'm hoping I'll be able to make sense of the more nonsensical sections in person."
"I wholly agree. I'll bet the library has something on that." Ian offered. "Shall we make a day of it?"
"That would be lovely." Sydney accepted his offer and continued to fiddle with her robes.
Ian broached another topic and Sydney realized, belatedly, that her new outfit already had a loose string. She wasn't even off the Hogwarts Express yet!
Finally, she just couldn't take it, and interrupted. "Aren't you even a bit nervous?"
"About what?" Ian asked—clueless.
"About the sorting ceremony!"
Ian looked taken aback. "Not particularly, no. I'm certain to be in Ravenclaw, and I rather like that. Are you worried?" He said it like he couldn't imagine such a thing.
"Well," Sydney blushed, "yes."
"You're a Sage." He said confidently. "You come from a long, long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins, and I can already tell you're bound to land a spot in Ravenclaw."
Sydney nodded. "That's what I was thinking… but, you never know what the sorting hat will decide."
"Is this about your sister?" Ian asked. "How she got sorted into Hufflepuff?"
"No." Well, a little.
"Because, from what I've heard, even your father didn't think she'd land herself in either of the two houses. It's different for you, though."
That's the thing…
"Some things you just know." Ian wrapped up his speech. "And everybody who knows you knows you're going to get into Ravenclaw."
The rest of the ride passed in a blur that Sydney later couldn't recall for the life of her. She retreated completely into herself, and switched on the autopilot. She carried out a conversation with Ian, only interrupted by the arrival of a woman selling candy off a trolley.
The train braked to a stop, and Sydney stood and slowly walked with her future classmates off the train.
"Firs' years follow me!" A giant of a man bellowed, his voice and size barely making an impression on her. "Any more firs' years? This way, then!"
Sydney followed mindlessly, stumbling down a steep path that led to a pitch black lake.
It was on the boat that she finally slammed out of her stupor. She looked around her. There was Ian, and two girls she didn't recognize.
"I said my name is Lissa," one girl said, catching her glance, "and this is Rose."
"I'm Sydney."
Lissa smiled. "You already said that. You must be really nervous!"
Before Sydney could admit that yes, she was incredibly so, Ian interrupted.
"I've told you, you're going to get into Ravenclaw." He sounded amused. And a bit condescending.
"Just let me be worried, okay?" Sydney snapped and stared into the dark waters.
"Okay." Ian sounded less sure now. "I just… I mean, you have to make Ravenclaw."
"I know." Sydney sighed. I wish people would stop saying that.
"Well, I think she can be worried if she wants to be." The other girl, Rose, spoke up. "We might know what houses we're going to be sorted into, but not everyone is like that."
"I don't know what house I want to be in." Lissa said kindly. "I'd like to be in Gryffindor with Rose, but I just don't know if I'm a Gryffindor kind of person."
"You are." Rose assured her.
Lissa gave her a pointed look.
"But I promised that I wouldn't say that again, so I won't." Rose grinned. "Hey, Sydney, I'll bet you didn't even notice Hogwarts when Hagrid pointed it out, if you weren't paying attention. It's there." She pointed.
And, man-o-man, it was there. Sydney didn't know how she'd missed it.
In its full glory, with her own eyes, Sydney was seeing Hogwarts.
The eleven-year-old fell into a hush that eleven-year-olds don't usually fall into. She was captivated.
To her disappointment, the boats made their way into a dark tunnel set into the cliff face. They were soon being ushered out of the boats and onto a rocky path. They stumbled up the pebbly incline and came out in Hogwarts' front yard.
The front door loomed above them—thick and wooden—as huge and as awe inspiring as Sydney could ever have imagined.
"Careful, now. The ghost Peeves is particularly fond of this area. Watch yer 'eads." The big man warned, but they made it through without incident.
They were met by an elderly looking witch with dark hair pulled tight into a bun—Professor McGonagall; Hagrid had said—who took them from there and instructed them to keep up. It wasn't easy, as her pace was brisk and Sydney was rather short, but she managed.
They finally stopped in a room off the side of the hall. It was rather crowded, with all of them in there at once.
"Goodness, we smell." She heard someone remark before everyone was hushed.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. She went on to explain how they would be sorted into a house, how each house was noble, how houses were like families. Sydney knew all this information by heart. She recited it in her head, bit by bit.
She began to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet—something very unlike her.
"I shall return soon, please wait quietly." The professor abruptly ended her address and left.
Sydney's heart beat to the low murmur of anxious whispers.
The minutes ticked by like hours.
Finally, Professor McGonagall swept back into the room. "This way, single file, please." Was all she said.
Sydney jumped into line behind Ian.
They entered the grandest, most spectacular room Sydney had ever been in. Floating candles, an enchanted ceiling, and oh, wow, just everything. It was a dream, but Sydney had eyes only for the infamous sorting hat.
And when all the first years were in their proper places, facing the crowd of on looking students, she finally found it. Set by McGonagall on a simple four-legged stool was a ratty, tatty, and very pointy hat.
Before she could give a second thought to catching lice, it began to sing. It was a well composed song and it sounded quite nice, but it only highlighted her worries.
I will be in Ravenclaw. Sydney reassured herself throughout the tune. If not naturally, then at least by process of elimination. Nothing else fits.
While she'd been wallowing in her worries, the professor had pulled out a large parchment and called. "Ashford, Mason."
A skinny red-head stepped out from the line and headed over to the hat. Placing it on his head, he sat on the stool and waited.
"GRYFFINDOR!" It yelled, and the table on the far left burst into cheers. He had a wide smile plastered to his face. It was clear he was happy about the sorting.
And so the sorting went. "Badica" and then "Castile". "Dragomir" and "Hathaway" were the girls from the boat; they were both sorted into Gryffindor. Several others were sorted, and before she knew it, it was Ian's turn.
"Sit with me once you're sorted, okay?"
Sydney promised she would.
Not to her surprise, "Jansen, Ian" was placed in Ravenclaw. He grinned at her. Her heart sank even further.
However, her thoughts took another turn at the next name.
"Ozera, Christian." McGonagall said.
Ozera was definitely a name Sydney was familiar with. They'd been Death Eaters of the darkest kind. Loyal servants to Voldemort, they'd been hunted down and killed by the most skilled of aurors. If rumors were to be listened too, Christian had seen it all with his own eyes.
The Slytherins looked on expectedly, smirking amongst themselves.
But the hat proclaimed "GRYFFINDOR!" and you couldn't have found a faster way to blanket the room in silence.
After a moment of still, Christian rose from the stool, set the hat back down, and walked coolly over to the Gryffindor table, where not a single set of hands were clapping.
He sat at the end, a pocket of space surrounding him.
"Rinaldi, Mia." Was the name that broke the quiet.
So the sorting carried on, and all too soon, "Sage, Sydney".
Well, her moment couldn't be any worse than Christian Ozera's, could it?
Sydney walked up to the stool. She felt Ian's eyes from the Ravenclaw table, Carly's from the Hufflepuff table, she even felt the sleazy eyes of Keith Darnell from the Slytherin table—whom she hadn't seen in years.
She took her seat, felt the fabric of the hat slip over her head, and didn't dare breathe.
How interesting, was the first thing she heard it say. You certainly have brains, I'll give you that. Just look at all the potential. Reserved, as well. If there's one thing to say, it's that you are definitely nothing like your father. How interesting… you wish to be Ravenclaw? But there is something… ah, yes, there it is. Such a desire to prove yourself. And such a heart. My dear, let me advise you in this—you will find your home in…
"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat called.
Sydney was frozen. Cheers sounded from the Gryffindor table, and Sydney slowly, mechanically took the hat off. Ian's face displayed a look of surprise, as did her sister's.
This was her worst nightmare. This was her very worst, most horrifying nightmare. This was what she'd feared.
And it had just happened.
She looked over at the table, full of smiling Gryffindors. Her sight roved over the faces of the other first years and her eyes caught Christian's.
Was this how he'd felt? No. Probably not. He'd have been a lot more humiliated. At least people were clapping for her.
Though, they definitely shared the same sense of not belonging to their new house. She could feel it in her face and saw it reflected in his.
He belonged in Slytherin and she belonged in Ravenclaw. That's just how it was. But they'd been sorted into Gryffindor.
He slowly, cautiously, tentatively nodded to a seat next to him, and Sydney's gaze darted away from his.
She made her way to the table, making her way for a smiling Lissa and a cheering Rose.
Christian looked down as she passed; she could tell he knew he'd been snubbed, that she didn't want to sit with him. She hadn't, but something occurred to her, and all too conscious of the stares, she did.
She didn't want to be congratulated for getting Gryffindor, she wanted to merely get through this meal, and she got the feeling Christian wanted the same. She wouldn't have to put on a face for him.
"Hi." Was all he said.
"Hi." Was all she said.
They sat in silence through the last of the sorting—"Zekelos, Jesse", though the Headmaster's speech, and as they loaded their plates.
"You didn't expect to be a Gryffindor." Christian stated the obvious.
"No." Sydney said, hot tears prickling at the back of her eyes. "I know I belong in Ravenclaw. I just know it, but the hat insisted otherwise." She sighed helplessly. "I can only imagine what my father will say when he finds out."
"I can only imagine what my father would say." Christian chuckled darkly.
"Oh, right." Sydney said. She shoveled a forkful of potatoes into her mouth.
"Not that I'd want to be in Slytherin." He added. "They seem like a nasty lot."
"Really?" Sydney asked, surprised. "I just… I figured…"
"That I'd take after them?" He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "I'm nothing like them, and I don't want to be. Though, I'm not sure a Gryffindor is what I want to be, either."
Sydney nodded. "My father was Slytherin."
"Maybe they knew each other. Our fathers, I mean." Christian said and took a bite of his chicken leg.
"Maybe." They had.
The rest of the table looked happy to leave them in their own little bubble. Sure, there were plenty of looks, but Sydney learned to get used to them.
"Is it always like this? The staring?" She'd asked at one point.
"Not always." Christian had shrugged. "Then again, it's not everyday I'm plopped into a mass of Gryffindors."
The time came to sing the school song, and Christian looked like he was seriously debating not joining in, but to Sydney's relief he did. She'd have felt like a fool singing by herself. Everyone finished at different times, as everyone had been singing to a different tune.
It was rather horrible, in Sydney's opinion, but Dumbledore apparently found it quite moving.
And, at last, finally, it was time to go to bed.
Sydney and Christian stood with the rest of the hall and made for the doors, rushing so as to avoid Ian and her sister, who were stuck further back.
"Gryffindors, follow me!" A voice rang out. "Gryffindors!" Sydney couldn't see who was speaking, and couldn't tell what direction the voice came from.
"Gryffindors! Follow me to the Gryffin-door!" It said again, and several laughed at the pun. "Don't loose me!" Considering Sydney hadn't even found him yet, she was quite worried. She was loosing track of his voice.
In a split second everything went wrong. Sydney somehow thought going on her tiptoes, just to get her bearings, would be a good idea.
It wasn't. Especially in the bottleneck of the doorway.
While she paused she was bumped into from behind. She fell flat on her face, and soon found it was impossible to get up.
I survived the sorting and the feast only to get trampled to death at the door?
That didn't seem at all fair to Sydney.
"Help!" She called.
More shoes pounded down around her. The people who saw her were careful not to step on her, but they didn't stop and help. They couldn't—they were being pushed ever forward by the mob behind.
Then, thank Merlin, help came.
A hand reached out of the sea of legs and pulled her to her feet.
"You okay?" A boy asked. A third year—if Sydney had to guess—with nice green eyes and a wave of dark hair.
"Yes." Her voice wavered.
"You'll be fine. No need to cry." He reassured her. "You're up now."
He shrugged out of his scarf and wrapped it around her neck. "Not exactly a shock blanket, but it'll have to do."
"I'm in Gryffindor." She stared down at Hufflepuff's colors.
"It'll have to do." He repeated.
"Sydney!" She became aware of someone shouting her name.
Other people became aware of it too, and when they realized it was Christian Ozera who was doing the yelling, they cleared a path. No fighting against the crowd for him.
"Are you okay?" He asked when he got to them. "I looked away for, like, one second and you were gone!"
"I got stuck under the stampede." It sounded lame when she said it.
"Oh," Christian rubbed the back of his head. "I kind of thought you'd decided to… you know, take off."
The boy eyed Christian for a moment, and Sydney thought he was going to take his leave; but, to Sydney's surprise, he began to walk with them.
Sydney shook her head. "I didn't decide anything. I just got taken under."
"I saved her." The boy boasted. "I'm a hero."
"A modest one." Christian remarked. "Lucky you, Sydney."
"Handsome, too." The boy added. "Very lucky Sydney indeed."
"Oh, there you are!" Carly broke out from the sea of bodies and faces. "I lost you for a second, you were so fast! You got into Gryffindor."
"Yes," Sydney sighed. "I wonder what Father will say?"
"It can't be worse than when I was sorted into Hufflepuff." Carly said. "Oh, but we can talk about this later!"
Carly scooped her into the best hug she could offer—given their surroundings.
"I don't suppose you heard the tail end of our conversation, Carly," the boy said, "but I just saved your sister's life."
"Really?" Carly gave him a stern look, but she was smiling. "And why do I doubt that, Adrian?"
Oh.
Adrian Ivashkov. He was in the same class and house as her sister. Carly had gone on endlessly about him last year in her letters and in person. She'd tried her best to act exasperated with him, but it had sounded an awful lot like she had a crush.
When Sydney had said as much, her sister had given a sputtered answer that ended with: "And besides—can you blame me? What girl doesn't like him?"
Her sister's fluttery feelings aside, after hearing all about him, Sydney had thought, When I am old enough to have a 'type', my type won't be him.
"He did," Sydney came out of her thoughts. "I fell and people kept stepping on me and I couldn't get up."
Carly's eyebrows raised and she took in her sister's rumpled state. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. Just a bit shaken, is all." Sydney dusted herself off.
"Well, well, well. Perfect little rule-following Sydney almost dead on her first night?" She teased. "What ever will we do?"
"Sleep it off." Christian suggested.
Sydney got a real good look at him and realized he was absolutely exhausted. Come to think of it, so was she.
"Where do we sleep?" Sydney wondered.
"See that blonde boy up those stairs?" Her sister pointed. "That's Marcus Finch, he's your prefect. Follow him to your common room. We'll talk more tomorrow!" Carly waved as Sydney and Christian raced to catch up to Marcus.
Sydney stopped halfway up the staircase to drop the scarf back down to Adrian. "Thank you!" She called.
"My pleasure." He answered.
Sydney took back off, catching her breath at a portrait of a fat lady where everyone had stopped. Marcus loudly pronounced a mess of nonsense that could hardly be called a word, in Sydney's opinion.
"That's the password. Everybody commit it to memory."
Christian and Sydney split for their dormitories after a quick farewell and a promise to meet for breakfast.
Sydney had never been so happy to crawl into a bed in her entire life. She closed her eyes, snuggling deep into the blankets, letting their warmth seep into her skin.
"You made friends with Christian Ozera." A voice intruded the haze and peace of her almost-sleep. She rolled on her side to see "Hathaway, Rosemarie". Rose.
"Maybe." Sydney yawned.
"You know he's bound to go bad, right?"
"Rose!" Lissa hissed from the other side of Rose, her hair glimmering in the moonlight.
"You don't know what." Sydney protested.
"Yes I do. Children always become their parents. It's a part of life." Rose said matter-of-factly. "And besides, how could he not?"
"He doesn't want to, for a start." Sydney said. "You're just saying that because you have it lucky. Your mother is a famous auror."
Rose made a face. "I'll never be like my mother."
"How can you accuse Christian of being like his parents, then turn around and say you'll never be like your mother?" Sydney asked.
"You don't understand." Rose huffed. "I could still end up like my dad."
"You don't even know him." Lissa said.
"So what?"
"I think you're just a hypocrite." Sydney said, turning so that her back faced Rose.
"Well, I think you're pompous."
"I think you don't even know what that word means."
"I know what it means!"
"I think Sydney's right." Lissa put in.
"Liss!"
"We don't even know Christian." Lissa said. "And you are being a tad hypocritical."
"I'm being cautious. Caution never hurt anyone. His parents were the worst sort of wizard there is. They killed dozens of people." Rose explained. "It's only common sense to think that some of their bad attitude rubbed off on their son."
"Sydney, I think I'll sit with you at breakfast tomorrow." Lissa said. "You and Christian."
"Liss, no! Do you want to kill any social standing we might have? Just stay away from him." She pleaded.
"You don't have to sit with us if you don't want to." Lissa said. "But, I'd ask you to give him a chance before you condemn him."
"Gah, fine." Rose sighed after a minute of silence. "You'll see that I'm right."
And before you guys say anything: I thought long and hard about where to put each person. If you have questions about why I sorted someone into a certain house just ask!
Review, please?