What happens when a series of accidents lead Valerie Hopkins to drinking a goblet of amortentia that she herself brewed?
(Credits to @-hafsaniaz for the wonderful cover :) )
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"Only you can define yourself," They tell me. But how do I tell them, I don't think I can? I've let someone else's words define me so often that I wouldn't know how to do it myself. Their thoughts are more home to me than my own.
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You make choices and then those choices make you. But sometimes it's not you who makes the choice, it's someone else. Someone, who won't spend long enough to think what that choice will make of you.
That's exactly how Valerie felt with the Sorting Hat resting on her head, her mind open before it like a book. It's choice was definitely going to effect her entire time at Hogwarts, yet she didn't have a say in it.
"Now, who says you don't have a say in it?" chuckled the hat wheezily.
"I can choose my own house?" she thought, refusing the pleasant relief to settle inside her before hearing it's final answer.
"Definitely, if that's what you wish."
Valerie looked at the four tables before her and the banners hanging above them. The red, the green, the blue, the yellow.
If she was choosing by mere colors she'd definitely say Hufflepuff, there was something soothing about the warm yellow and in a moment of stupidity, that's exactly what she felt doing.
