III. The Unexpected Happens and I'm Not Sure Whether It's a Good Thing or Not

The door swung open to reveal the woman who scolded Draco in Diagon Alley.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here."

She led us through a small foyer and opened a set of silver doors at its end to show us into the entrance hall. A marble staircase with red carpeting stretched to another set of shining double doors, decorated with golden flourishes. We heard voices from the other side of the wall as we stood huddled together, both nervous and excited. But the whimsical mood shattered when a toad hopped in front of us and a chubby, pale boy cried out "TREVOR!" Professor McGonagall shot him a judgemental look as he went to pick up his toad, but snapped back to her professional presence for her opening speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into houses. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. Your house will become your family. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school," she continued. "I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can during the wait."

"How are they planning on placing us?" asked Harry.

"Some sort of test, I think," Ron answered. "Fred and George said it hurts, but I think they're just trying to scare me."

I knew exactly how the Sorting worked. An enchanted hat called the Sorting Hat looks into your mind and thoughts to determine your best qualities. Then, it places you in a house based on your traits: Gryffindor for courage and honor, Slytherin for cunning and ambition, Ravenclaw for wisdom and wit, and Hufflepuff for loyalty and faith. Some say that you're sorted based on the qualities you desire rather than the qualities you have, a theory I loved. But, since Harry and Ron hated know-it-alls and I had just barely won them over, I decided not to explain the Sorting.

"Now, follow me," Professor McGonagall instructed. "This is the Great Hall."

She pulled open the door to display a glorious sight. The Great Hall could have fit ten Malfoy Manors and still have room left over. Every inch of the hall was shining with beauty, and the decor was dazzling. The enchanted ceiling was a deep bluish-black speckled with stars, a flawless imitation of the night sky. Candles floated in midair, adding a golden glow to the beige walls. Golden plates and glittering goblets decorated four long tables filled with smiling students, which I assumed represented each house. We marvelled at the ghosts floating through the hall, who occasionally stopped for a chat with the living. The place made me feel at home the moment I walked in, something the Manor had never accomplished.

A small staircase led to a stage-like platform filled with teachers, and in front of them was a battered witch's hat with creases that imitated eyes and a mouth: the Sorting Hat. Everyone turned to watch as McGonagall led us to the stage, but their attention switched to the hat when it began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart

Their daring nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The audience's applause became more and more distant as my mind drifted off in thought. It wasn't hard to predict what would happen tonight.

I had heard that every Silverwood had been in Gryffindor, my mother being the only exception. Gryffindor was the rival house of Slytherin and not only represented bravery, but also nobility and loyalty. These qualities made Gryffindor my dream house, especially since it would disassociate me from the Malfoys and my real parents. I could become everything they weren't. But where else was Voldemort's daughter supposed to go other than Slytherin? Certainly not Gryffindor. Ravenclaw wasn't an option, considering my extreme lack of rational judgement. And I couldn't be a Hufflepuff—it's hard to stay faithful, loyal, and kind to your friends when you don't have any.

Draco would be sorted in Slytherin, too, just as every Malfoy had been for centuries. The thought that I would have to suffer spending every waking hour with him sickened me. I couldn't shut myself in my room for days, or go out into the garden and draw. No, I'd have to go to class with him, share a common room, and breathe the same air twenty-four-seven. I might have physically escaped Lucius and Narcissa, but with Draco here, they weren't far at all.

My mind snapped back into reality when McGonagall called the first name.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A blonde girl stumbled out of the line and placed the hat on her head. It fell below her eyes as it paused in contemplation.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

One table filled with students in black robes lined with yellow burst into applause. Hannah took her seat at the table as the ghost next to it beamed at her.

The more names were called, the more nervous I became. Susan Bones became a Hufflepuff, Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst went in Ravenclaw, Lavender Brown in Gryffindor, Millicent Bulstrode in Slytherin… The list went on and on. While I couldn't wait for this to be over, I dreaded the moment the hat would touch my head.

Draco was sorted into Slytherin, as expected. A table filled with students green robes burst into applause as he sauntered over to them, beaming with pride. I dreaded the moment I would have to walk to the Slytherin table myself.

McGonagall had reached "Parkinson" now, whom the hat deemed a Slytherin, then two twin girls with the surname "Patil," then "Perks," and then "Potter, Harry."

A series of whispers broke out amongst the students. Everyone's eyes widened in amazement as Harry approached the stool. It was easy imagine how the students would react when my name was called. Instead of amazement, people would stare in fear. Instead of whispering, everyone would be dead silent, too petrified to move a muscle. What if the hat didn't want to sort me? What if they kicked me out because of who I was? What if I was too dangerous to be taught magic?

I pushed the thoughts away as the hat bellowed "GRYFFINDOR!" I gave Harry a thumbs-up as he walked to the overjoyed, applauding table. More intrusive thoughts filled my head. What if no one clapped for me when I was sorted? Would even Slytherin be happy to have Voldemort's daughter?

There were only five people left to be sorted now: me, Ron, and three others whose surnames I desperately hoped came before "Silverwood" in the alphabet. How was I supposed to follow up Harry Potter?

I must have jinxed myself, because McGonagall then said the two words I dreaded most:

"Silverwood, Sadie."

The cheering and applause came to an abrupt stop. I focused my eyes on the hat to avoid seeing the frightened faces surrounding me as I approached the stool. My face was heating up, and I must have been blushing like crazy. I wished just one person would start whispering about me. Whispers were better than silence.

I placed the hat on my head.

"Hmmm…" The booming voice of the Hat echoed in my head, startling me. "You're a difficult one. An entire family of Gryffindors, except your parents. Slytherins, they were. Makes me think you should follow in their footsteps."

"Can I, um… not be in Slytherin?" I thought, hoping the Sorting Hat would hear. "I don't want to end up like my parents… I want people to know I'm not them."

"You want to differ from your family, I see," the hat said, annoyed. "Your mother was the same way. Let me guess, you want to stand out for once, you want to be noticed—"

"I'd rather not, actually," I interrupted. My thoughts from Diagon Alley resurfaced. "I want to prove to people I'm not the monster they're making me out to be."

"That's a very Slytherin thing to say," the Hat thought. "Quite… ambitious of you. But you've got a bit of fire in you, too. A Gryffindor fire."

My hopes rose. "So I'm a Gryffindor?"

"You focus your ambition on being sorted into Gryffindor," the hat said. "Ironic, isn't it?"

I stared at the stopwatch on the wall that timed everyone's Sorting. It had already been almost a minute.

"Yes, that's because it's where I want to be," I urged. "Why can't you just put me there?"

"I told you, you're a difficult one. Some Gryffindor blood, and some Slytherin blood. And you came off as a Slytherin at first."

"But why?" I inquired. "I'm really not that cunning and ambitious." And I also really didn't want to be in Slytherin.

"Ah, but you are," said the hat. "You became fluent in Spanish as a second language over a span of three years, and that's ambition if I ever saw it."

"How do you know that?"

"I can read your thoughts, you know," it retorted. "Besides, Slytherin's just in your blood. You could flourish a lot in that house."

"Right," I thought. "But wasn't Gryffindor in my mother's blood? And she was a Slytherin. Every Silverwood except my mother was in Gryffindor. So shouldn't that cancel out a few Slytherins?"

Two minutes.

"You do make a compelling argument, but you're just different."

"How so?"

"Your mother's family wasn't made up of the most powerful wizards of all time," the Sorting Hat explained. "Usually, all the Gryffindors in your bloodline would make it the most logical house for you, but the Dark Lord himself being there changes everything."

"I'm not him, and I want nothing to do with him."

"I know," it assured me. "You've told me this already. Listen, you wouldn't understand these things, Silverwood. Just let me do my job. I'm much more experienced in this realm than you, so—"

"But I want to understand," I thought. "Then I can rebut your argument better."

"Now that I think about it, wanting to understand things is quite a Ravenclaw trait."

"Better than Slytherin."

"Well, if you really don't want to be in Slytherin, I might consider it…"

Three minutes. Whispers amongst the students began to cut through the excruciating silence.

"Can you get on with this?" My anxiety grew with every second that went by. I longed to be off this stool, relaxing at one of the house tables with the reassuring knowledge my Sorting was over. My eyes kept darting back at the timer, wondering how much longer this would take.

"Let's look back on your life," the hat suggested, making me sigh aloud. "You've never really learned from your mistakes, have you? You've been caught sneaking down to the kitchen for a snack in the middle of the night countless times, yet you've never bothered to think of a solution. A cunning Slytherin would try to figure out a better route, or at least go downstairs at a different time. Maybe you aren't a Slytherin after all." My nerves settled a bit at this news. "And you've always been more of a cynic than an optimist, always seeing the negative outcome rather than the positive. Like this morning, for instance, you were thinking up all sorts of worst-case scenarios for your Hogwarts experience. And right now, you're thinking about how horribly this Sorting could turn out. A daydreaming Ravenclaw would be quite different."

Four minutes.

That left Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. My worst-case scenarios were wrong—there was a fifty-fifty chance I'd be sorted into my dream house, and Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad either. But it's certainly no Gryffindor.

"You're really set on Gryffindor, aren't you?" the hat said. "Well, you've always had a knack for seeing the worst in people. Don't get offended now, it makes sense you'd have trust issues based on the people you live with." Could this hat learn its boundaries? "But regardless, a faithful Hufflepuff would try to find a person's strengths rather than their flaws."

That only left one option. I was getting quite excited now: This torturous Sorting was about to come to a close, and it would end just the way I wanted. I stared back at the clock. It was nearing five minutes.

"I can tell you want to get this done with, so I'll be brief," the hat declared. "What you are is reckless. You don't like rules, but you're not quite good at breaking them without being spotted. You're always waiting for some adventure to pop up and make your life interesting. And you dare to stand up to people, even your godfather, when you know something's not fair. I believe that only leaves me with one option."

Without another second of hesitation, the hat made its decision:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

"That was not brief," I mentally muttered before taking the hat off my head.

A wave of relief flooded over me, but it quickly diminished when the Gryffindor table began a half-hearted, stunned slow clap. Even Harry slowed his applause when he realized what the students around him were doing. The only person who seemed excited about my Sorting was Draco. Fred and George were giving me the most energetic standing ovation they could, but their pity applause only made my embarrassment worse. Percy eyed them with disapproval.

No matter how little clapping there was, the moment felt like a dream. I didn't think Gryffindor was even a possibility for me, but now I was walking towards its house table, beaming with euphoria. Everything was so surreal: the colors were richer, the candles were brighter, and I could finally see the beauty in life—that is, until I noticed Draco smirking, scowling, and glaring at me all at once from the Slytherin table.

That was his trademark "my-father-will-hear-about-this" look.

I hadn't weighed the pros and cons of getting sorted into Gryffindor, just the pros. Lucius would kill me—literally or figuratively, I didn't know. He might take me down to the cellar and beat me for however long it takes him to get his anger out, and leave me locked down there without any food or drink…

"He can't do anything to you here," I silently reminded myself. "You're at Hogwarts. You're away from the Malfoys, even Draco now. Don't worry."

Harry gave me a high-five as I sat down next to him, making Percy's jaw drop to the table. I assumed he was one of the many people who feared and despised me (for no good reason) and never dreamed that Harry and I would even be acquaintances.

We watched as Dean Thomas was sorted into Gryffindor and Lisa Turpin into Ravenclaw. Next went Ron, who looked a sickly green. The hat barely touched his hair before it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and our table burst into applause. Beaming, he sat across from Harry and I, and we each high-fived him as his brothers patted him on the back, except Percy, who was yet again staring at me in disbelief.

Finally, Blaise Zabini was placed in Slytherin, and the Sorting came to an end.

"I thought you were going to be a Hatstall," Ron told me.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "A what?"

"You know, when your Sorting takes at least five minutes," I explained. "I was one second away. And I've had a lot of bad four minutes and fifty-nine seconds, but that was by far the worst."

At that moment, a tall, elderly man with white hair and a long beard stepped up to a golden podium, bringing the chatter to a standstill. A pair of half-moon spectacles rested on his face, and a Hogwarts crest decorated his purple robes. I recognized him as the man on Harry's chocolate frog card: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, smiling. "Welcome to Hogwarts! Before we begin, I'd like to say a few words: Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak! Thank you!" Without another strange word, he took his seat in the center of the professor's table.

"Is he mad?" Harry whispered.

"Mad? No," Percy answered. "Genius? Yes. One of the best wizards in the world—well, I guess he can be a bit mad when he wants to, though. Potatoes?"

Harry looked back at the table and noticed the feast Ron was already devouring. Every dish you could think of had materialized before our eyes: fish and chips, Yorkshire pudding, potatoes, scones, buttered peas… I was already stuffed from the candy, and I wasn't used to eating multiple times in one day, but once I tasted the roast beef, my appetite returned. Food had always been this plentiful at Malfoy Manor, but the Hogwarts food didn't look so bland and tasteless. Unlike the Manor, Hogwarts wasn't dreary enough to make cooking as fantastic as Manuel's taste like a physical embodiment of depression. I couldn't stop myself from eating every bite.

"That looks good," a ghost behind us said, startling me. "I haven't eaten in nearly five centuries—well, I don't need to, but I do miss it. I'm Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, ghost of Gryffindor Tower." He introduced himself with a flourished bow.

"You're Nearly Headless Nick!" Ron and I said in unison. I had heard all about the Hogwarts ghosts from Manuel.

"Well, I would prefer—"

"Nearly headless?" a boy named Seamus Finnigan interjected. "How can you be—"

Without missing a beat, Nick pulled his head to the left so it hung over his shoulder, revealing a neck soaked in blood. He was almost decapitated; it looked as if given another tug his head could be completely pulled off. The ghost put his head back into place and angrily floated away as I forced the image out of my mind.

"What's his problem?" Seamus asked.

"Reckon it's the House Cup," George said.

"Slytherin's won it for the past six years," Fred finished.

"Nick says the Bloody Baron's getting unbearable," Percy added, gesturing to a ghost covered in blood sitting at the Slytherin table. I smirked as I saw Draco sitting next to him, not looking too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"What are you smiling about?" Percy asked, hesitant to talk to me, but still suspicious.

"Oh, nothing," I said. Harry noticed Draco's predicament as well and tried to hide his own triumphant smile while Percy eyed both of us with confusion.

Once we all finished our meals, an assortment of desserts appeared on the table: tarts, cakes, pies, pudding, and more. I was helping myself to a scoop of salted caramel ice cream, my favorite flavor, when the conversation changed to our families. What a wonderful topic.

"Me dad's a Muggle. Mum's a witch," I heard Seamus say. "Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out."

Even I joined in on the laughter.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked.

Neville Longbottom, the boy with the toad, began a long tale about how his grandmother raised him. His family thought he was a Squib and tried to force magic out of him by dangling him out of a window, but one day when he was nine, his grandfather dropped him by accident, and he bounced on his head across the road and didn't earn a single scratch. As a reward for showing signs of magic, his grandmother bought him Trevor.

Neville asked Ron about his family next, but before Ron could answer, Draco pushed him and George apart and took a seat in between them.

"This is the Gryffindor table, cabrón," I scowled. I thought I had gotten rid of him, but apparently not.

"Okay, just because you say it in Spanish doesn't mean I haven't looked it up yet," Draco retorted. "So, how do you think Father will react when he finds out you're sitting here and not with the Slytherins?" Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Seamus, Neville, and even Hermione, who had also been sorted into Gryffindor, were now watching us with great interest.

"Did you just come over here to avoid the Bloody Baron?" I asked, changing the subject.

"That's besides the point," he snapped. "Answer the question."

"Well, I'd suppose he'd bash me with his cane a hundred times," I predicted, alarming the others, "but, then again, he won't have a reaction because he's not going to find out."

"And what makes you think I won't tell him?"

"I've got ten years worth of blackmail on you and I'm not afraid to use it," I threatened.

"Sorry, Sadie, but unlike everyone else, I'm not scared of you." A smirk appeared on his face.

"That's low."

"So is blackmail."

"Hey, Harry," I began, my eyes still trained on Draco, "have I ever told you how good Draco here is at braiding hair?" Everyone around us laughed at him.

Draco's smirk was replaced by a glare. "You're awful, you know."

"Wow, thank you so much for that insightful advice," I muttered, mocking what he had said in Diagon Alley.

"I'm serious," he said. "I'm not going to make any friends because you just had to be my godsister."

"Well I didn't want myself to be born, either."

"Did I ask for your opinion?" he scoffed. "The point is, everyone's going to hate me and it's all your fault."

"Wow, I wonder what it's like to be hated because of something you can't control," I hinted with fake sincerity.

Draco sighed and put his head in his hands from aggravation. "Here we go."

"Really, what a concept that is," I continued without hesitating. "That's definitely never happened to me before and I can't imagine how horrible it must be. I truly apologize for bestowing this terrible burden upon you."

Draco sighed. "Trust me, guys, she's not evil," he muttered through gritted teeth to the students surrounding me. "Just really annoying." He stormed off to the Slytherin table.

"I'll take what I can get," I said to myself.

"Er," Percy began with a hint of reluctance, "I think you just provoked him to do whatever he was going on about."

"Eh, he does whatever he wants no matter what I say," I replied, "so why not have some fun?"

"Is it true?" George asked.

"Is what true?"

"Does he really braid hair?" Fred clarified.

"Yeah, he taught me how," I said with a chuckle.

Suddenly, Harry let out an "Agh!" and held his hand to his forehead, right where his lightning-shaped scar was.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"Nothing," Harry answered. "Who's that talking to Professor Quirrell?" He gestured to a man with greasy black hair and an unwelcoming face. The man was leaning over a scrawny, shaking teacher with a suspiciously large turban.

"Oh, you know Quirrell?" Percy examined the table where the teachers were sitting at. "Oh, no wonder he looks so nervous. That's Professor Snape talking to him, Potions professor and Head of Slytherin House. Snape's been after the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for years, and that's what Quirrell's teaching. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape. " Snape's glare never faltered as he talked to Professor Quirrell, who was fidgeting with his purple turban, his skin as white as a sheet. He didn't quite fit the description of the Potions Master Manuel had loved so dearly. In fact, he seemed quite the opposite.

The desserts disappeared, and the hall fell silent as Dumbledore stepped up to the podium once more.

"Now that we've eaten, I'd like to give a few start-of-term notices. If you can't tell from the name, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden for all students, third years included." He glared at Fred and George. The idea of going to this Forbidden Forest suddenly intrigued me. "No magic should be used in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held during the second week of the term. Those interested should contact Madam Hooch. Lastly, I shall inform you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is strictly off-limits unless you wish to die a very painful death."

I had heard that Hogwarts was the safest place in the world, but that last bit wavered my trust. Harry seemed to be the only other person to show any concern.

"And now," Dumbledore announced, "let us sing the school song!"

With a flick of his wand, a banner with lyrics written across it flew into the air. The hall immediately burst into a deafening racket. Everyone sung to different tunes, some even rapping at full speed. Fred and George were the last ones singing, performing a slow funeral march that earned a standing ovation from Dumbledore.

"And now, bedtime," he finished. "Follow your house prefects to your dormitories. Well, off you go!"

The first year Gryffindors followed Percy, whose golden badge stated he was a prefect, through the corridors of the castle until we reached a portrait of a plump woman in a gaudy pink gown. Percy told us she called herself the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she requested.

"Caput Draconis," Percy said, and the painting swung open like a door to reveal the Gryffindor common room, which was full of red armchairs and couches. The walls were painted red with a gold trim, and a red rug with beautiful abstract designs covered the smooth wood floor. Above the crackling fireplace was a portrait of our house founder Godric Gryffindor. He welcomed the new students with a warm smile and a wave of his hand. Percy directed us towards two sets of staircases that led to the dormitories; the girls were located on the right and the boys on the left. Before we left, he informed us that our owls had been sent to the Owlery in the West Tower.

The dorm room held all six of the first-year Gryffindor girls. My luggage waited for me by the wall, so I grabbed it and went to pick out a bed. Being the introvert I am, I picked the bed in the far right corner, and left my suitcase by the nightstand. Most of the girls hurried away from me, but, for some reason, Hermione took the bed next to me. I decided this was my chance to apologize and even befriend her.

"Hey, um, Hermione?" I started.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to apologize for what happened in Diagon Alley," I said, slightly lowering my voice.

"It's not your fault," she said. "You stood up for me, so I should really be thanking you."

"Really? I mean, um, yeah, I—I guess I did…" I stammered.

"I think I'll go to bed now," she said, cutting off my awkward stuttering. "We'll need to be well-rested for tomorrow, you know? They might give us pop quizzes and I wouldn't want to be unprepared. I'll have to get up early to study… Goodnight, then!"

"Goodnight." I smiled as I lay on the bed and began to drift off.