Merely Misunderstood

Chapter One

"Locousa, Brianna!"

Professor McGonagall called my name loudly, and my heart stopped.

She waited expectantly, the sorting hat waiting ominously atop the stool. The Great Hall was quiet as they waited for me to sit on that stool and allow the old hat to decide my fate.

This was it, there was no turning back now.

I pushed my way through the crowd of fellow first-years, my heart hammering in my chest. I didn't think I'd ever been so nervous in my life.

I stumbled up to the stool, sitting gingerly upon it. I placed the sorting hat carefully on my head, and the Great Hall full of either bored or curious eyes disappeared behind the black inside of the hat. I waited anxiously, holding my breath.

"All right, what do we have here?" a small voice said in my ear, and I gasped in surprise. Was the hat speaking to me? "Yes, I am speaking to you, and only you," it replied to my thoughts, and my mind went blank with shock. "Now, let's see here.... I see a great deal of bravery and courage, you'd do well in Gryffindor... ah, but here, there is ambition, and cleverness — oh! And a talent of getting your way, too.... Strong determination, a fair amount of confidence... yes, I believe it should be SLYTHERIN!"

The hat shouted the house name loudly so that it echoed throughout the Great Hall. The Slytherin table cheered loudly as Professor McGonagall took the hat from my head, and I hopped down from the stool, heading quickly toward the Slytherin table, immensely relieved. I'd been half-hoping to get into Gryffindor to join Hermione Granger, a friend I'd made on the way to Hogwarts, but I wasn't disappointed with Slytherin; it was where my mother had been sorted into. My dad didn't have a house, though — he's a muggle.

But I expected to be in Slytherin, since I was more like Mum anyways — like her, I was a bit on the short side for my age, and I had her light brown hair and soft features, including her narrow jaw and nose. The only thing I had in common with Dad was his green eyes.

I took a seat next to Mirah Holland, my cousin and close friend, who had been sorted before me. She looked relieved that I'd been sorted into Slytherin too and pulled me into a one-armed hug as I sat beside her, her wavy, golden-blonde hair falling into her face.

After me, the hat sorted a Neville Longbottom into Gryffindor, and he had run off to the Gryffindor table still wearing the hat. Everyone laughed as he turned back and handed it to a "MacDougal, Morag."

When Professor McGonagall called out, "Malfoy, Draco!" I looked up curiously. That was the boy that tried to befriend Harry Potter earlier, but Harry had turned him down. I wondered if he was still sour about that.

The hat had barely touched the top of Draco Malfoy's head when it cried out "SLYTHERIN!" and he joined us at the Slytherin table, sitting diagonally from me and looking rather pleased with himself.

The rest of the sorting took forever, but I found it mildly interesting. I wasn't surprised when Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor — he seemed like he'd be the type to fit in there. I wasn't surprised, either, when he received the loudest cheer yet as he made his way shakily toward the Gryffindor table. I could hear the red-headed twins from the train chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

I was surprised, however, to see that Draco Malfoy's expression looked disappointed as if he were hoping Harry would be sorted into Slytherin. Maybe he still wanted to be Harry's friend. This confused me. Were we not allowed to befriend other houses?

The sorting ended, and Professor McGonagall carried the hat away while Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, stood and said a few words.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" and then he sat down again.

I stared at the headmaster, bewildered. Was he always like that? Maybe he was just trying to be funny? No one else seemed to question anything he'd said; perhaps it was normal for him to speak like that?

I turned to speak my confusion to Mirah, but once my eyes landed on the table, the thought left my mind. The plates were suddenly filled with all sorts of food! There was roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and peppermint humbugs.

I gaped at all the food, utterly shocked. Was there anything magic couldn't do?

Mirah noticed my expression and laughed. "You'd better scoop yourself some food before it's all eaten!"

"There's no way all this could be eaten," I replied, dumbstruck, but I served myself some boiled potatoes and Yorkshire pudding nonetheless.

I'd just scooped myself some carrots when I heard a voice calling out.

"Hey, you!" the voice exclaimed. "Girl!" 

I looked up to find the source of the yelling, and my eyes landed on Draco Malfoy, who was staring at me impatiently.

I pointed to myself questioningly, wondering if he was talking to me, and he nodded.

"I have a name, you know," I told him, pouring gravy over my potatoes.

"If I cared, don't you think I would've asked?" he asked as if it were obvious, and I stopped, looking up to stare at him in shock.

He held out his hand toward me, unaffected by my surprise. "Give me the gravy," he demanded lazily, his grey eyes looking bored.

I glared, annoyed by his nerve. "I'm not done with it," I said bitterly, continuing to pour gravy over my potatoes. I realized I was pouring too much, but I was too stubborn to let him have the satisfaction of receiving the gravy boat, especially not after how he'd acted.

Malfoy held his hand toward me still, saying, "I don't care. I need it."

"Wait your turn."

Malfoy dropped his hand, looking affronted. "Listen here, girl —"

"It's Brianna!" I exclaimed, slamming the gravy down onto the table angrily.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I don't care," he said airily as if we were merely discussing the weather. "Pass me the gravy, or I'll take it from you."

This entitled little... I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before grabbing the gravy, slowly holding it out for Malfoy to take.

He smirked victoriously, reaching toward the gravy boat. I clenched my jaw angrily at his smirk, and when his hand was just inches away, I "accidentally" let it slip from my hands. It crashed into the table, splattering gravy all over Malfoy and his friends, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oops! Sorry!" I said with a smug smile, and Malfoy glared at me icily.

He hasn't said a word to me since then, or even bothered to acknowledge my existence.

And I was perfectly fine with that.