Hey Ginger

THE SORTING TRICK

Marianne POV
In all honesty, I didn't expect that turn of events. Of course, I imagined everyone would look at me curiously, wondering who the new student is. Now, however, in the present, they must be wondering who that weirdo intruder is. I wasn't blaming them. It was my stupidity for chatting with Malfoy and thus being awfully late, which made me intrude. Dumbledore was facing me seriously as he asked, "Excuse me, Miss, but could you tell me who you are and what's your business here?"
"I'd be delighted to do so, headmaster, if in turn you would be so kind as to tell the dear Quasimodo here to not touch me." I was looking at the filthy caretaker.
"Am I Quasimodo here?!" Filch exclaimed, clearly confused.
"If you're not, I'm so sorry for the confusion," I feigned remorse. Ron though saw right through me and burst into a laugh. It was cut short though as Hermione threw him THE glare. I turned to the still confused caretaker. "You see, sir, relatives look alike."
As Fitch gasped at the insult, I could have sworn I saw Dumbledore smiling. The caretaker lifted his arm and was about to punish me for my...my... honesty? I bet he didn't perceive my comments as such— I wouldn't either if I were him. Dumbledore cut in, and the caretaker stilled as the old headmaster said, "Mr. Filch, she's right."
Filch furrowed his brows and wrinkled his nose as he let me go, and defeated, walked away.
"Thank you sir," I said as I reached to my pocket. "I'm Marianne and these are my acceptance letters."
I handed them to him and he took a look. "They are five," I added, and his eyes snapped at me at some point, a flash of surprise reflecting in them. He checked all five before folding them hastily and addressing to me. "So you are Marianne Bl-"
"Just Marianne," I cut him and he nodded in understanding.
"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Now come along. You should get sorted to your house."
I followed the headmaster and then approached a middle-aged lady who was holding the sorting hat.
I knew the procedure but I was nervous, and worried. So worried. I wanted so badly to be sorted into Gryffindor, give a reason to father to be proud of me, I thought as I stride towards her. However, I couldn't say I had ever truly felt as a Gryffindor. If I were being truthful, I probably belonged to Hufflepuff.
Once I reached the teacher, I took a deep breath and sat on the wooden stool. Everyone was

looking at me, the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs, and the Ravenclaws. I didn't even glance to the last table. There was absolutely no way I'd end up there. My personality trait had not once been ambition, so it's not about the whole prejudice around the house that only "evil" wizards go there. No, that wasn't the case here. I just didn't belong with them.
"Interesting," said the old—maybe ancient—hat. "I see you're hard-working, just and loyal." "Please, let it be Gryffindor," I thought to myself.
"So you hope for Gryffindor. Let me see..."
My heart has beating rapidly in my chest. So much I felt it ready to rip out of me. My excitement was so great that I was ready to beg for a quick answer. I scanned the students who seemed ready as well for me to be sorted. The golden trio was looking at me intensely and the twins were already smiling at me, as if welcoming at their house before I was even sorted.
Suddenly, I saw movement in the far right and my eyes snapped towards the direction. I saw Malfoy raising his wand and whispering something that I could under no circumstances hear. When our eyes met, a wicked smile spread on his face. He looked mischievous and I knew I had to stop whatever he was doing. I was ready to call him out, confront him, when the hat spoke.
"Huffl-"
To everyone's surprise the hat fell silent. It didn't finsish its sentence. It was as if something had made it pause. I saw students turn to each other's and caught the teachers glaring at one another too. No one spoke, though. It was me who broke the silence and said, "Hufflepuff, right?"
The hat didn't answer, and the professor with the pointy hat turned to Dumbledore. "Headmaster," she called. "I think there's something wrong with the hat"
Suddenly, before the headmaster could answer, give a solution, then hat loudly said, "Slytherin!" "What?!"
"Slytherin!" repeated the hat fiercely—as if possessed. Or enchanted
"That's insane," I called, turning to the professors. "I can't be sorted to-"
"SLYTHERIN"
I took the annoying hat off my head and tossed it away. I turned to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, it's obvious something is wrong here."
"I'm sorry, dear, but it's pretty obvious that your house is Slytherin," said Umbridge from the teacher's table.
I looked at her over my shoulder and said, "I don't remember addressing you." She gasped. "How dare you talk to me like that?!"
"Pretty easily actually." Students were now giggling. I had made a scene, but quite frankly, I didn't consider it my fault. I was standing up for myself and my future. It was fine with me, I wasn't meant to be a Gryffindor, but the hat had nearly put me in Hufflepuff. I had never heard of the famous hat being wrong or hesitating. Something wasn't right.
"Your house is Slytherin. End of story"

"Don't you understand something is wrong with the hat? Even the professor said so before." "Yes indeed," she affirmed.
"You're not the first nor the last who didn't get sorted to the house they wanted." Umbridge turned to the other professors. "Are we really going to concern ourselves with a discontent child?"
Dumbledore cut her a glare. "That's enough," he said. "Marianne will be sorted into Slytherin until we figure out what happened tonight."
That was my cue to leave, and I did. I walked to the middle of the Slytherin table, several seats away from Malfoy, who was sitting on the opposite side. I did my best not to look at him, though it wasn't easy since I could feel his gaze fixated on me for the entirety of the dinner. It wasn't the only pair of eyes that I could feel, though. Despite the rest of the students and stuff not staring directly at me—at least the majority of them tried not to be that obvious—everyone's attention was fixated on me. After the events of those last days I wasn't in the mood for socializing, so I mostly kept to myself during dinner.