The Daughter of Darkness

The path leading up to the castle was steep and winding, bordered by dark, ancient trees that seemed to close in around them as they ascended. The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly in the cool night air, mingling with the distant hoot of an owl and nervous chattering amongst her soon to be classmates. The castle grew larger with every step they took, its towering spires now fully illuminated against the night sky. The grandeur of the place was almost overwhelming in a way that put even the Lestrange manor to shame. It caused Joa to feel a mix of awe and trepidation as she trudged up the hill. Draco walked ahead with Crabbe and Goyle, their quiet murmurs barely audible over the sound of the wind. Joa followed closely behind, her eye darting from the towering walls of the castle to the nervous faces of the other first-years around her. 

The tension was palpable, and the reality of what was about to happen- her sorting- pressed heavily on her mind. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffrindor. She was going to be a Slytherin. She was a Lestrange, it’s where she was meant to be- it’s where she has to go. All her family had been in Slytherin house before her- who was she to break that tradition? From what she knew about the house, she didn’t think she would suit there. She wasn’t cunning, she wasn’t shrewd. She definitely couldn’t be a strong leader. Hufflepuff was more likely. Joa knew she would work hard, she itched to study magic, to cast spells, to brew potions. Hufflepuff would also most likely have people who wouldn’t judge her for being her daughter. Ravenclaw was just as likely a place if not even more. Joa wanted to learn everything possible, she was going to. Ravenclaw made sense to her. There was no point in thinking about Gryffindor, she didn’t see herself as the type to be brave or heroic. She didn’t think that red was her colour either, but that wasn’t as important. 

As they rounded a bend in the path, the castle’s front entrance finally came into full view. The massive oak doors stood before them, flanked by towering stone pillars and intricate carvings that seemed to depict the history of Hogwarts itself. Gargoyles perched on the ledges above, their eyes following the group as they approached, adding to the castle’s ancient, mystical aura. Joa’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed up at the entrance. This was it. Beyond those doors lay the Great Hall, where generations of witches and wizards had stood, waiting to be sorted into their houses. Now though… Now it was her turn.

The giant gameskeeper stopped in front of the doors and turned to face the latest group of children, taking their first steps at Hogwarts. With a war smile, he started speaking. "Right then," Hagrid said, his voice softer now. "This here’s the entrance to Hogwarts. Once we go inside, you’ll be meetin’ Professor McGonagall. She’ll take it from there, get ye sorted into your houses."
Joa could feel her heart begin to race. She had read about the sorting ceremony countless times but the fact that it was her turn now made her feel incredibly anxious. Draco stood next to her, his expression as cool and composed as ever, but Joa could sense the tension in him. He caught her eye for a brief second and gave her a small, reassuring nod, though his confidence seemed more for show than anything else. Crabbe and Goyle were muttering something between themselves, their eyes darting nervously between the castle and Draco. Joa’s cousin’s so-called friends didn’t seem to quite share his calm, composed demeanour. At least she wasn’t alone in her nerves. 

Hagrid pushed the massive doors open, and they swung inward with a slow, creaking sound, revealing the entrance hall beyond. Joa’s breath caught again as she stepped inside, her boots clicking softly against the polished stone floor. The entrance hall was enormous, with high, vaulted ceilings that seemed to stretch endlessly above them. Suits of armour lined the walls, gleaming in the torchlight, and grand staircases spiralled upward, leading to parts of the castle Joa could only guess at. The chill of the Scottish air seemed to vanish as the warmth of the castle enveloped her, though it did little to calm her racing nerves. She moved with the rest of the first-years into the grand space, her cousin Draco walking just ahead of her. His confident swagger was a stark contrast to her own measured steps, and Joa found herself sticking close to him, more for a sense of familiarity than anything else. It was unlike anything Joa had ever seen. The grandeur of Lestrange Manor was pale in comparison to the sheer size and ancient, enchanted feel of Hogwarts. She could feel the centuries of magic embedded in the very stone of the castle, a sense of deep, living history that made her heart skip a beat. 

"Stay close now," Hagrid said, leading them further into the entrance hall. His boots made a deep, echoing thud with every step, a sharp contrast to the hushed whispers of the first-years. "We’ll meet Professor McGonagall in jus’ a moment."

Joa didn’t know where to focus her eye, she was trying to absorb every detail of the hall as she moved through it. The walls were adorned with portraits of witches and wizards long past, some of them watching the first-years with mild interest, others engaged in conversations or sleeping peacefully in their frames. The magic of Hogwarts was everywhere, in the air itself, in the flicker of the torches, in the way the very stones seemed to hum with life. Ahead, Joa spotted a group of older students gathered by the entrance to the Great Hall, all wearing the robes of their respective houses. Their gazes followed the first-years as they passed, some curious, others indifferent. The other first-years whispered excitedly as they took in the splendour of the entrance hall, their voices echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

Ahead of them stood Professor McGonagall, her stern face set in an expression of no-nonsense authority. She was tall and thin, with sharp eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Her black robes flowed elegantly as she stood at the base of a grand staircase, her presence commanding the attention of every student. Her expression was stern but not unkind, as her eyes swept over the group of first-years as if measuring each of them.

"Thank you, Hagrid," McGonagall said crisply, stepping aside to allow the students to file into the chamber. "I’ll take it from here."

Hagrid gave them one last nod before retreating back down the hall, leaving the first-years in the capable hands of the deputy headmistress.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began, her voice as precise and authoritative as Joa had expected. "In a few moments, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, as your house will be like your family while you are here. You will eat, sleep, and attend classes with your housemates, and the triumphs you achieve will earn your house points. Any rule-breaking, however, will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup."

McGonagall’s sharp gaze swept over everyone as she spoke, Joa met her eyes for the briefest of moments before looking down at her shoes. Joa thought she had been recognized, but McGonagall’s professionalism remained intact. There was no judgement- yet.

"There are four houses at Hogwarts," McGonagall continued. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each values different qualities in its students. The Sorting Hat will be placed on your head, and it will decide which house you belong to."

Joa’s throat was dry. This was the moment she had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure for as long as she could remember.

"Slytherin, obviously," Draco whispered under his breath to her, smirking slightly. "Don’t worry, we’ll be fine."

Joa didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. On one hand, Slytherin seemed inevitable- a family tradition. But on the other hand, she couldn’t shake the thought that being sorted into Slytherin wouldn’t make sense. After all, she didn’t share many traits with what the great Salazar Slytherin would have desired in his house. 

McGonagall’s voice cut through Joa’s thoughts. "The Sorting Hat will be placed on your head, and it will decide which house best suits your qualities and character. It may take a moment or two, but the Hat has never been wrong."

Joa’s fingers absentmindedly traced the jagged flesh around her ruined eye, a habit she’d picked up whenever she was lost in thought. She knew the Sorting Hat would be able to see everything- her thoughts, her deepest insecurities, her fears.All of her thoughts laid bare and on display to it. Would it judge her based on her lineage, for the blood that ran through her veins? The thought made her shiver. She didn’t want anyone in her head, or any old hat for that matter. She didn’t want to be judged for her name but she knew it didn’t matter what she thought. The hat would soon know all about her, if her name wasn’t enough to send her straight to Slytherin first.

Professor McGonagall paused, her gaze lingering on the students before her. "Once you have been sorted, you will join your house at the corresponding table in the Great Hall. Remember, your house is your family while you are here. The friendships you form, the challenges you face, and the accomplishments you achieve will be shared with your housemates."

There was a murmur of excitement among the first-years, though Joa remained silent. She glanced at Draco, who was standing with his usual air of confidence, but even he seemed more tense than he had earlier. He caught her eye and gave her a small smile.

Professor McGonagall straightened, her expression softening slightly as she looked over the group. "Now, follow me into the Great Hall. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."

With that, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, revealing a scene that took Joa’s breath away. The hall stretched out before her, far larger than she had imagined, its ceiling impossibly high and glittering with an illusion of the night sky. Joa’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed upward. Stars twinkled in the darkness above, the same constellations she had seen outside reflected here, within the walls of the castle. It was overwhelming. For a brief moment, Joa felt impossibly small, as though she had stepped into a world far older and more powerful than she could comprehend. The enchanted sky, glowing softly with the light of distant stars and a pale sliver of the moon, was only the beginning. Her vision drifted down from the ceiling, taking in the rest of the hall.
Four long tables stretched from one end of the hall to the other, each lined with rows of students wearing robes in shades of red, green, blue, and yellow. At each table, house banners hung proudly: Gryffindor’s crimson and gold lion, Ravenclaw’s blue and bronze eagle, Hufflepuff’s black and yellow badger, and Slytherin’s green and silver serpent. Joa’s eye was drawn, almost instinctively, to the Slytherin banner. The snake coiled there reminded her of her mother, of the legacy she carried in her very name. It was unsettling, seeing it loom so large, the snake that symbolised the house that she was expected to be part of.

Joa’s heart pounded as her gaze shifted to the hundreds of floating candles hovering above the tables, their soft, flickering light casting a warm glow over everything. The entire hall was bathed in their ethereal light, giving the room a timeless quality, as though nothing here had changed for centuries, and nothing ever would. The candles swayed gently as if moved by an unseen breeze, and their light reflected off the polished wooden tables and the golden plates that were set in front of each student, waiting for the feast to come.

Her gaze shifted back to the Slytherin table, where a group of older students sat watching the first years with keen interest. Their green and silver scarves draped over their shoulders, and some wore smug smiles as they whispered to one another. Joa couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could feel the weight of their attention, as though they were sizing the first years up. she glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where the red and gold colours stood out brightly against the warm glow of the candles. The students there were laughing, chatting loudly amongst themselves, their energy completely different from the cool reserve of the Slytherins. Gryffindor- the house of bravery, of courage. The house that stood against everything her mother had fought for. Joa’s heart gave a strange lurch at the thought. The idea of being sorted into Gryffindor seemed as unlikely as it was terrifying. She was a Lestrange though so she was destined to be a Slytherin.
Joa shifted slightly, the nervous energy building in her stomach as the last of the first years filed into the hall. The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin, and soon, she would know where she truly belonged in this vast, ancient place. 

As Professor McGonagall stepped forward, her voice rang out through the Great Hall with the crisp authority that only she could command. “When I call your name, you will step forward and sit upon the stool to be sorted,” she said, holding up an old, ragged hat that looked entirely unremarkable.

Joa’s eye locked onto the hat, her breath catching in her throat. This was it. The Sorting Hat. The object that would decide her fate for the next seven years of her life. It looked almost absurd in its frayed, worn state, sitting in McGonagall’s hands, yet it carried the weight of centuries of tradition. Joa’s hands twitched at her sides. She wanted to reach up and smooth her wild curls back into place, but she didn’t dare move. She was certain every eye in the hall was on her, though she couldn’t bring herself to check. McGonagall began to call the names of the first years, and the sorting began.

“Hannah Abbott.”

A small girl with blonde pigtails and a nervous expression stumbled forward, her eyes wide with trepidation. She hesitated for a moment before perching on the stool. The Great Hall fell into a tense silence as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head. Joa could see the girl’s hands gripping the edge of the stool, her knuckles white. Joa imagined what it would be like to feel the weight of the hat on her own head- how it would peer into her thoughts, sift through her deepest fears and desires, and judge her based on everything she was.

For a few moments, the hat was silent. Then with a voice that was surprisingly loud for a hat, it shouted, “Hufflepuff!”.

There was a cheer from one of the tables in the middle of the hall, where students in yellow and black ties were already clapping and welcoming Hannah Abbott into their fold. Joa felt a flicker of relief for the girl, but it did nothing to ease the tightness building in her own chest. She couldn’t help but wonder- what if the hat refused to sort her? What if it declared her unworthy of any house at all?

She glanced sideways at Draco. Her cousin stood close to her, his posture straight and assured, though she could tell he was nervous too. He had that same careful mask he always wore when he was uncertain, though he’d grown good at hiding it. Joa’s eyes met his, and for a brief moment, his usual cool demeanour softened.

“It’ll be fine,” Draco whispered under his breath, so quietly that only she could hear. “We’re Lestranges and Malfoys. We belong in Slytherin.”

Joa wanted to believe him, but her chest tightened even more. Belonging. That word felt foreign to her, like something she didn’t deserve. She wasn’t even sure who she was, let alone where she belonged. Her entire life had been shaped by the ghost of her mother, by the whispered stories of Bellatrix Lestrange’s madness, cruelty, and power. Joa knew people feared her name. It would cling to her like a shroud, even here at Hogwarts.

"Susan Bones."

Another girl stepped forward, her red hair bright under the soft glow of the floating candles. The tension in the room was palpable, but Susan didn’t falter. The hat barely touched her head before it cried, "Hufflepuff!" The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers once more.

Joa’s heart raced as she watched Susan hurry to join her new housemates. It all seemed so simple from the outside- sit down, get sorted, move on. But she knew it wouldn’t be simple for her. The moment her name was called, every eye would be on her. They would all know who she was. There would be no escaping it.

"Brown, Lavender."

The Sorting Hat took a little longer with her, but eventually, it declared, “Gryffindor!” Lavender squealed with delight as she rushed over to the table clad in red and gold. Gryffindor. The house of the brave. Joa couldn’t help but wonder- what would it be like to be in Gryffindor? What if the hat placed her there, with the children of those who had fought against her mother in the war? The very thought sent a cold chill down her spine.

"Crabbe, Vincent."

Crabbe lumbered forward, his heavy footsteps echoing through the hall. The hat was barely on his head for more than a second before it bellowed, "Slytherin!" The Slytherin table clapped with pride, and Draco gave a slight nod of approval as the first of his friends was sorted into the house of the serpent. Joa didn’t notice this however, she could only think about how every sorting brought her closer to her own. Her stomach twisted into knots as McGonagall called the next name. 

“Finnigan, Seamus."

Seamus was sorted into Gryffindor, and for a moment, Joa couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of her own heartbeat, pounding so loud that it almost drowned out the cheers and the clapping. McGonagall had already reached the surnames that begin with ‘F’. ‘L’, was not much further along and her anonymity was almost gone. Soon she’d be revealed and God only knows what that would mean for her.

"Goyle, Gregory."

Goyle took his seat, and the hat swiftly sent him to Slytherin as well. Another cheer erupted from the Slytherin table, and Joa felt Draco stand a little straighter beside her. Slytherin. It made sense. It would be what everyone expected. But was it what she wanted?

“Granger, Hermione.”

A bushy-haired girl stepped forward, her eyes wide but filled with determination. Joa felt a pang of something unfamiliar- envy, maybe. There was something about Hermione Granger that felt different. The way she held her head, the sharpness in her gaze. It was as if she already knew what she wanted, as if she had already figured out who she was. Joa couldn’t fathom having that kind of certainty.

The Sorting Hat seemed to take its time with Hermione, its wide brim covering most of her face as it deliberated. Joa could feel the tension in the air as the seconds dragged on into minutes. It was clear the hat was weighing its options, sifting through something complicated and deep within Hermione’s mind.

Joa’s thoughts raced as she watched Hermione sit there, waiting, completely exposed to the hat’s judgement. What was it seeing in her? What could it see in Joa? She wondered if the hat would dive into her memories of Lestrange Manor, of the cold, echoing halls and the whispers of house-elves. Would it see the endless hours she spent alone, reading books on magic far beyond her years? Would it see the way she had traced the contours of her mother’s face in old photographs? Could the hat see her memories? Probably not. Hopefully not. The Sorting Hat seemed to mutter something inaudible to Hermione, and for a moment, it looked like the girl might argue with it. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the hat finally made its decision.

"Gryffindor!" it shouted.

Hermione’s face broke into a smile as she removed the hat and hurried over to the Gryffindor table, where cheers and applause greeted her. Joa’s throat tightened. What would the hat see in her when it finally came to her turn? Would it sense the part of her that longed to know her mother, despite the horrors she had committed?

Draco nudged her gently, bringing her back to the present. His face was still calm, but there was an edge of nervousness in his eyes now. His sorting was coming soon, too. But after hers.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered again, though his voice was a little less certain this time.

Joa swallowed hard. She wanted to believe him, but the fear of what the hat would see gnawed at her, relentlessly.  It twisted in her chest, cold and jagged, spreading with each passing second. Every time another student was called forward and sorted, she felt the pressure grow, a suffocating weight that made it hard to breathe. The Great Hall, which had once seemed like a grand, magical place full of warmth and light, now felt suffocating. The floating candles overhead flickered, casting strange, shifting shadows on the stone walls. The enchanted ceiling above showed a sky full of stars, but Joa barely noticed it now. Her thoughts were elsewhere, far away from the wonders of Hogwarts. They were swirling around one single truth: everyone would know. They would know who she was.

Each second stretched painfully as McGonagall glanced down at the list in her hands, her expression still stern but momentarily faltering. The silence from the students awaiting the next student to be sorted deepened as McGonagall’s eyes landed on the next name. Joa swallowed hard. She wanted to believe Draco, but the fear gnawed at her, relentless, clawing at her chest like a dark creature trying to escape. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears she was sure the entire Great Hall could hear it. 

Her lips parted, and she began to speak.

“L- Lestrange, Joa.”

The stammer in McGonagall’s voice was unmistakable, and the weight of the name fell upon the room like a cold, heavy curtain. For a split second, nothing happened. The hall remained deathly still, every student frozen, the name hanging in the air as if no one could quite believe it had been uttered. A low ripple of whispers began but it quickly turned into a flood of hushed tones. It was as if the very sound of her surname carried with it a chill that cut through the warm light of the enchanted ceiling.

Joa felt rooted to the spot. The world around her blurred slightly as the whispers grew louder, the words indistinct yet piercing. She couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but she knew. She knew what they were all thinking.

"Lestrange?"

"Is she related to...?"

"But Bellatrix Lestrange-"

The whispers swelled, buzzing around her like a swarm of wasps. Joa’s heart pounded in her chest, her hands suddenly cold and clammy. Her feet felt as though they were made of lead. For a brief moment, she thought about staying still, about never moving, never walking forward, as if somehow that would stop everything. Maybe if she stayed where she was, they wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t know her, wouldn’t associate her with the woman whose shadow loomed so large over the wizarding world.

But then, a voice- sharp, cruel, and unfamiliar- sliced through the panic that gripped her. It was low, almost a hiss, and it reverberated inside her head like it had always been there, waiting for this exact moment.

"Go. Just go. You belong here Joa. Don’t just stand there like a fool."

Joa stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. She had never heard this voice before. It was as if it came from within her, yet it felt alien, something dark and unsettling, urging her forward. She looked around quickly, wondering if anyone else had heard it, but all she saw were the faces of her fellow first-years, staring, whispering.

“Joa,” Draco whispered beside her, his voice tight with urgency now. “You have to go.” 

He wanted to help her, to calm her, but there was nothing he could do. His words were a lifeline, pulling her back to reality. She nodded, though her limbs felt numb, uncooperative. Joa’s heart raced as she took the first step forward. The hall seemed to expand, each step stretching out before her like an endless corridor. She was acutely aware of the eyes on her, burning into her back, her sides. Students leaning over to get a better look, to see Bellatrix Lestrange’s daughter.

“Like that mad…?”

"Her daughter?"

"I thought she didn’t have children..."

Joa kept her gaze forward, determined not to meet anyone’s eyes. She could feel her pulse in her throat, her palms slick with sweat as she made her way toward the stool where the Sorting Hat sat, waiting. Its frayed edges and dull, worn appearance should have seemed benign but to Joa, it felt like she was walking towards an executioner’s block. The old, weathered thing that sat on the stool at the front of the hall, it looked so ordinary, so mundane, but it held her fate in its hands. Or… in its brim.

"Lestrange," someone muttered, too close to her left.

"Do you think she’s like her mother?"

Joa’s breath hitched. Each whisper felt like a tiny knife, cutting into her skin, reminding her of what she would carry with her everywhere she went- the weight of her mother’s crimes, the terror that her family name inspired. As she approached, the hall seemed to close in on her. The vastness of the space, the high ceilings, the enchanted sky overhead- it all seemed to shrink around her, the walls pressing in, the whispers getting louder, her name echoing through the hall like a curse. She wanted to hide. She didn’t want to be seen. She didn’t want to be known. Not like this. 
She climbed the last step to the front of the hall, her legs shaking beneath her. The stool sat before her, waiting, but she hesitated, her eyes flickering to the students. Their faces blurred together- some curious, some frightened, others sneering with barely concealed disdain. She could feel their judgement, their revulsion. They weren’t looking at her- they were looking at Bellatrix. They were looking at the legacy of the woman who had terrorised the wizarding world, who had caused so much pain and destruction. They saw her mother in her. They saw the madness, the cruelty, the darkness. They didn’t see her.

Joa turned her head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of McGonagall’s face. The professor’s stern expression had softened, just a little. There was something else there now- pity, perhaps. Or worry. Maybe both. Joa wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse. With trembling hands, she finally sat down, the hard wood of the stool cold against her legs. The hall went utterly silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Joa’s entire body was rigid, her muscles tight, her breath shallow.

The Sorting Hat hovered above her, waiting. And then, slowly, she lowered it onto her head.

Joa squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for whatever the hat would find, for whatever judgement it would pass on her. As the Sorting Hat was placed on Joa's head, everything went silent. The whispers from the Great Hall, the weight of the eyes watching her, the oppressive presence of her own fear- it all vanished in an instant. The world around her seemed to fade, leaving only darkness and the soft pressure of the hat resting atop her curls.

Then, from somewhere deep within her mind, she heard a voice. It was old, ancient even, and filled with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"Ah... Joa Lestrange, is it? Well, well, well... What an interesting one you are."

Joa stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. The voice wasn’t like the cruel, mocking one she had heard earlier- it was gentler, more probing, but still strange. She felt as if something were crawling through her thoughts, pulling at memories, emotions, secrets she had never shared with anyone.

“Are you... inside my head?” she thought, though she already knew what the answer would be.

The voice chuckled, a low, dry sound that seemed to echo in the corners of her mind. "Indeed I am. That’s how this works, my dear. I see what’s inside you, your thoughts, your fears, your desires. And based on all that, I decide where you belong."

“Where I... belong?” The word felt heavy on her tongue. Joa had never really thought about where she belonged. She had spent her entire life feeling like she didn’t belong anywhere- not in her family, not in the cold halls of Lestrange Manor, and certainly not here at Hogwarts, where everyone seemed to know who she was before she’d even spoken a word.
"Yes, where you belong," the hat repeated, its tone shifting slightly. It sounded more serious now, as if it were truly considering the weight of the decision before it. "But... you’re not an easy one to place, are you? No, no... You’re far more complicated than most."

“What do you mean? Can’t you just... put me somewhere? Like everyone else?”

The hat hummed thoughtfully. "Oh, I could. But you see, it’s not that simple with you. Your mind... it’s full of contradictions. Shadows and light, darkness and strength. Yes, yes... I can see it now. The weight of your mother’s legacy hangs over you, doesn’t it? Bellatrix Lestrange... Oh, yes, I remember her. Terrifying woman, that one. Dangerous and brilliant in her own way but dangerous nonetheless."

Joa flinched at the mention of her mother’s name, the familiar ache in her chest returning. “I’m not her,” she whispered in her mind, as if trying to convince herself as much as the hat.

"No, you’re not," the hat agreed, its voice gentler now. "But you fear that you are, don’t you? You fear that same darkness lurks inside you, waiting to take over."

“Stop…” Joa thought, but the hat seemed to ignore her plea, its voice soft but relentless.

“Hmm… yes, I can see the darkness. It’s not quite like your mother’s, though, is it?”

The mention of her mother made Joa freeze. She didn’t want to think about Bellatrix. She didn’t want anyone- least of all this ancient, probing hat- to think about Bellatrix. 
“I don’t want to be like her,” Joa thought, her voice barely a whisper even in her own mind. “I don’t want to hurt people. I just... I just want to be... normal.”

The hat was silent for a long moment, as if it were considering her words carefully. Then, it spoke again, its tone more serious than before. "Normal? Oh, my dear... You were never going to be normal. Not with a mind like yours. No, no... You are far too gifted for that."

“But... what does that mean? Where do I go?”

The hat hummed again, thoughtful. "That is the question, isn’t it? You could do well in Slytherin, you know. The ambition, the cunning, the raw power... Oh, yes, you’d fit right in there. You could be great, you know. Truly great. There’s… potential in you. Yes. But which kind? That is the question."

Joa squeezed her eyes shut, her hands clenching the edge of the stool. She wanted this to be over. She wanted the Hat to just say Slytherin and be done with it. She wanted to be with Draco, away from all the judgmental stares, away from the whispers that haunted her every step. Draco would protect her. He was all she had. If the Hat put her anywhere else, she didn’t know what she’d do.

“Ah, yes, I see your desire, little one,” the Hat murmured, almost amused now. “You want Slytherin. You think it’s the safest place for you. With family. With those who will understand you, protect you. You think you’ll be one of them, don’t you? That Slytherin is where you belong.”

Joa nodded, or at least she thought she did. It was strange, having this conversation in her mind, but it felt so real. The Hat’s voice was like a presence, surrounding her, filling her head with thoughts she hadn’t even fully realised herself. She wasn’t sure if she was thinking or if the Hat was pulling the thoughts from her like a string unravelling.

“I need to be with Draco,” she pleaded in her mind, the desperation leaking into her voice. “He’s the only one who- ”

“He’s the only one you trust,” the Hat interrupted, its tone almost pitying. “But you are more than your cousin’s shadow, Joa Lestrange. More than the weight of your family’s name. I see so much more in you than you’re willing to admit. Strength, yes. Ambition, too. But something else. Something… brighter.”

Brighter? Joa felt a flicker of confusion. What could the Hat possibly see in her that was bright? She wasn’t brave. She wasn’t anything but a frightened girl who wanted to hide from the world.
“But…” she began, her voice faint, uncertain. “If not Slytherin, then… where?”

There was a long pause, the silence in her mind growing heavier, more profound. The Hat seemed to be considering her, weighing its options, and for a moment, Joa wondered if it would ever make up its mind. “Ravenclaw, then?” the Hat continued, almost as if it were thinking aloud. “You have the mind for it. Your curiosity, your thirst for knowledge- yes, you would thrive there, among the scholars and thinkers.”

Ravenclaw. Joa’s mind raced at the thought. She had always loved learning, always found solace in books and magic. It was the only thing that made sense to her, the only thing she could control. But…

“But no,” the Hat interrupted again, and this time its voice was more resolute. “Ravenclaw is not for you, either. You are clever, yes, but you crave something more. You seek not just knowledge, but action. You want to change the world, even if you don’t realise it yet.”

Joa blinked, surprised by the words. Change the world? That seemed too big, too impossible. She wasn’t a hero. She wasn’t even sure who she was. How could she possibly…

“You doubt yourself,” the Hat said, its voice growing firmer. “But that is why you need to be challenged. You need to be pushed beyond your comfort, beyond the walls you’ve built around yourself. And for that…”

The pause seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Joa’s heart thudded in her chest, her breath shallow. She could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on her, the uncertainty gnawing at her insides. What if the Hat couldn’t sort her? What if she didn’t fit anywhere?

“Oh, you fit,” the Hat said, almost laughing. “You fit better than you think. But your path is not the easy one. It will be difficult, yes, but rewarding. You will need to find your courage, child. You will need to dig deep within yourself, but I see it there. Buried beneath the fear and doubt.”

Joa clenched her hands tighter in her lap. "Where?" she asked, her voice small in her mind. "Where do I belong?"

The Hat’s voice was soft now, gentle, but filled with certainty. “Gryffindor.”

Joa’s heart skipped a beat. Gryffindor? But… how? She wasn’t brave. She wasn’t a hero. That was the house of people who were fearless and brave and strong. Not like her.

“Gryffindor is not for the fearless,” the Hat said, its tone almost amused. “It is for those who face their fears. And you, Joa Lestrange, will need to face many.”

Joa sat in stunned silence, her mind spinning. Gryffindor. Could she really belong there? Among the brave, the bold?

“You doubt yourself,” the Hat repeated, its voice softer now, more understanding. “But you will grow. You will learn. And one day, you will see the strength that has always been inside you.”

“But-”

Joa didn’t get the chance to finish her thought as she was pulled back to the world as the hat yelled “GRYFFINDOR!”