Times Of Her Blood

Two | Who She Is

"Black, Laurel!"

Immediately, the buzz in the hall dies in an instant when those two words are uttered.

Everybody shamelessly stares (or glares) at the final first year who steps up to the chair, masking herself with confidence and mustering up as much courage as she can to face the hat.

To face her fate. It wasn't that she hated Slytherin, she just didn't like most of the people in it. And they all knew her.
Every one of them.

"Merlin, hello there. Your head isn't a very fun place to be, is it? I can hardly navigate."

Amazed by its bluntness, she raises an eyebrow, "Thanks."

"Mmm, no problem dear. It would help if you relaxed and didn't block me out of your head every time I get close enough, though."

"Sorry."

"It's fine, dear," it's voice softens, "I know it's a habit. And I'll try to make this quick- can't guarantee anything, though. Poor soul. Now, let's see. Laurel Black. Let's start with Huff- okay, definitely not. It's not that you don't have the qualities, but you certainly wouldn't benefit anyone.

"Ravenclaw is a no. You're one of the smartest first years, however I can't put you there...

"Ah, Slytherin runs in your veins, dear. You know of your father, yes?"

At his the hat's words, she stiffens. Her eyes dart to the Slytherin table, and she reaches into her pocket, clutching the crumpled remains of the photograph, "He was the first Black to be sorted into Gryffindor."

The hat hums in agreement, "He had an interesting mind, but not as interesting as yours. Yes, you would do well in Slytherin. You are ambitious, cunning, tactical...but you are also incredibly brave and loyal, though you do not seem to acknowledge this."

She sucks in a deep breath, knuckles whitening as she clutches the chair.

"You have questions," the hat muses, "Nobody has ever thought to ask me a question that I cannot hear myself."

She readjusts her position on the seat, averting her gaze so that she can't see the stares she's getting as she mutters, "When you sorted him," she begins, "Why didn't you put him with the others? They all say he should have been a Slytherin for the way he... for how he lived up to the family name. Just like they say I will. They say it's inevitable."

The hat hums again, but this time seems somehow uneasy, for something that doesn't have emotions, "I made the correct choice, dear," it states sharply, "I usually do," it makes a noise Laurel can only imagine is sighing, "Slytherin is not a bad house. In fact, I value it. Just because you are a Slytherin, does not make you a bad person."

"They all say that."

"I am the sorting hat," it snaps suddenly, but she doesn't jump. Instead, she keeps herself steady. "It is my job. Slytherin is no burden. But, as it happens, there are two compatible houses.

"You could do well in Gryffindor, dear. You could do very well. But better things will come your way if you just stayed true..."

She shakes her head, "I-"

And then the hat bellows out one single word.

One single, terrifying word.