ICN: I see Lucy as sarcastic, easy to underestimate, aromantic and pan. For anyone who's into A:TLA, I reckon Lucy would grow to be like a much quieter, more reserved and less athletic version of Toph. I don't think she'd make friends easily, but that'd suit her fine.
HAIR: blonde.
EYES: dark green.
WAND: silver lime, phoenix feather, eight and three quarter inches.
Lucy Weasley flicked a piece of fluff from her cardigan, staring at the ends of her highly polished shoes as she did so. She could just see the yellowish blur of her reflection. Not for the first time, Lucy wished that she had inherited the vibrant red Weasley hair, rather than her mother's flat, dull gold colour. Mum was rosy-cheeked and smiled a lot; Lucy was pale, with a smattering of equally milky freckles and a rather blank expression most of the time. At least she was prettier than her sister. Not that that was hard.
She frowned at that last thought. She must stop being so mean-spirited. One reason she didn't talk much – in fact, she reckoned that most of the family had forgotten that she existed – was because she knew she'd end up insulting someone without even meaning to. Everyone assumed that she was shy; her delicate, almost frail appearance and wide, watchful dark green eyes supported the theory that she was a weak little wallflower. In reality, she was smart and shrewd and rather cynical for a child, but only her parents and sister really knew that. Her father, who had always tried and failed to understand his younger daughter, tiptoed around her and spent more time with Molly. Lucy didn't really care. She loved her father and she knew that he loved her. They didn't have to like each other too.
The truth was that there was practically nothing Weasley about Lucy. She seemed solely a product of her mother's genes. Mum had always told her that she was named after her maternal grandmother, Audrey's mother, the Seer Lucinda Blishwick.
"I must have been channelling some of Mother's abilities when I named you for her," Mum always said in her faint South African accent. "You're just like her, Lucy. You're in your own little world but you see everything, things that no one else could possibly see. You're so special. You're going to surprise everyone."
The little girl sniffed in a sudden rush of homesickness, scraping her loose sleeve across her nose. Mum had always been so full of quiet understanding, never questioning Lucy's lack of friends or strange reading choices. And when Lucy woke up shaking from yet another bizarre, confusing dream, or randomly spoke about things she'd never seen or done, Mum accepted it calmly and patiently. Dad was nice about it too, but it was obvious that he found the whole thing disconcerting.
As for Molly… the older girl studiously ignored any strange happenings around her little sister, only talking to her when Lucy was not displaying any signs of abnormality. Lucy found Molly's pompous attitude irritating and Molly, now fifteen and dealing with hormones on top of her usual negative outlook, seemed to find just about everything irritating, even her beloved father. Still… Molly had her moments. Like sitting with her younger sister on the train, despite having her small band of friends waiting for her, and awkwardly putting her arm around Lucy's shoulder when a few tears escaped the little blonde girl. Lucy hardly ever cried and she had to admit that on the rare occasions she did, she didn't want to be alone.
Feeling suddenly affectionate towards her sister, Lucy stood on tiptoe and peered at the Gryffindor table, ignoring her cousins. Molly was up the far end, peering right back at her little sister through thick glasses, uncharacteristic concern evident on her face. Giving a rare smile, Lucy raised her hand and waved tentatively. The older girl nodded stiffly in return. Supressing a grin, Lucy quickly turned back to the Sorting Hat, relieved to see that just two people were left in front of her. She just wanted to get Sorted, have something to eat and go to bed, so that tomorrow would come sooner. She was certainly quite interested to start lessons, but mostly she wanted access to the famous Hogwarts Library.
At last, Lucy's name was called. She walked calmly across to the stool, staring at Professor Vector in a way that she knew unsettled people. Vector frowned at her. Lucy hid a smile.
Once under the Hat, she closed her eyes and waited. The Hat didn't disappoint.
"My, my, my…" it breathed. "It's been a while since I've seen anything like this. Does your family have a history of possessing the Sight?"
Lucy let out a breath, relieved that the ancient, all-knowing artefact was familiar with her quirks.
"Yes," she thought, for she knew that she didn't have to speak aloud. "My grandmother was Lucinda Blishwick, maiden name Cornfoot."
"A Ravenclaw," the Hat responded automatically, almost absentmindedly. "She only stayed at Hogwarts for a year before the family moved abroad, but I often wondered if her abilities served her well. You are quite a bit like her, but not entirely the same. I do not feel that you belong in the same house, for instance."
Lucy nodded slowly. She had known for some time how this would go.
"Slytherin is a rewarding house for those who suit it," murmured the ancient voice. Lucy cocked her head, unwilling to be pushed into anything without thinking it through one last time.
Albus was in Slytherin and she didn't mind him so much. It would be nice for him, too. He was her cousin, after all, and he might appreciate not being the only one in that particular house. She had to admit that she had never developed the suspicion with which most of her family viewed the green and silver house. And speaking of her family… well, this would certainly get her noticed even if nothing else did. Besides, she knew deep down that she probably did belong there.
Silently, Lucy conceded to the Hat. In the instant before it responded, she was struck with amusement thinking that most of her family would be expecting their meek, quiet little cousin to be placed in Hufflepuff or something. She opened her eyes so that she could see their faces as the Hat shouted:
"SLYTHERIN!"