Prologue
THE BOATS MOVED ALL AT ONCE, gliding through the seemingly endless lake as their tracks formed small waves that lightly bumped into the oak body, tossing droplets of water at the wide-eyed students. The sound of the water swaying under the boats caressed Daphne's ears, tickling her senses as the grand castle slowly revealed itself under the full moon's light, glowing, while whispering to her to hurry up, to savour the narrative crafted for her before its taste turned bitter.
The young girl's skin tingled as she moved under the weak light produced by the torches stationed at the high walls, their marble stones towering over her as she meticulously followed the straight line of first years formed by Hagrid, the groundskeeper. Soon, the echo of their light pats to the rocky ground diminished as they reached an equally tall, oak door that hid the grand castle with all of its secrets, whether pleasant or grim.
After what felt like hours, the door swung open with a loud creak that got Daphne's stomach tumble as a slender figure appeared from the newfound source of light. The woman at the gate marched towards the first years with such confidence that it cracked the anxiousness hovering over them, furnishing the feeling of durability that splattered a sense of relief to their hearts, the feeling of arriving home. The tall witch glanced through the sea of students, taking in their postures and expressions, as her emerald robes shone under the light provided by the torches, contrasting her dark hair and revealing the silver strands lurking within.
The students returned to their perfect line to follow the witch, climbing through many marble stairs that housed countless untold tales and to the chamber that held a high ceiling, much like the rest of the castle.
"The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily. I highly encourage all of you to proper yourselves as much as you can until I return to take you to the ceremony," Professor McGonagall announced. Her stern tone pierced through Daphne, who had created an abrupt beat with light taps to her arm while inhaling deep breaths, trying to prevent her frame from shuddering in excitement. "And, please, wait for me quietly."
With a bright grin etched over his lips, Lee Jordan made a sudden turn on his heels to face the set of ginger twins and the grey-eyed girl he acquainted on the train. "So," he began, not batting an eye to the elderly witch's instructions. "which House d'you reckon to get sorted into?"
"Gryffindor, obviously —" Fred answered eagerly. The words had left his mouth with such urgency that it got the blonde girl to wonder whether he'd been preparing himself to answer that exact question all his life.
"— like the rest of our family!" George added, a similar excitement glazing over his words.
"Wicked! I hope so, too." Lee answered as his eyes flew to the blonde standing beside them. "What about you, Daphne?"
The blonde's pale eyes settled over Lee following his words as the gears inside her head began to turn, trying to piece the letters to form the word sitting at the tip of her tongue. The answer. Her answer had been decided for her front long before she could even think for herself. Then, why was her vocal cords suddenly failing to unite to form one, simple response?
"Slytherin," answered Daphne. "Just like the rest of my family."
"You don't seem like a snake, though," Fred's words of objection pervaded the air before he or his brother could prevent him from uttering them. "You're cool! It'd be a shame if you got placed there if you ask me."
Daphne narrowed her eyes as the frail grin resting on her lips left from the train ride diminished, leaving its place for a frown. Her right arm sitting over her left fell back to her side, and as mixed emotions took over her, however, her thoughts got overawed by the entrance of the stern witch. All the attention got drawn back to Professor McGonagall as she made her appearance known within the first years, a spark of excitement coating over her strict stance as the time of sorting neared. She gestured them to follow her, and without wasting time or getting the witch to repeat herself, the students tailed after her, passing through majestic passages to reach the Great Hall hidden behind a pair of grand doors.
The first years crowded around an old Hat that was placed over an oak stool. Each student inside the hall was staring at it intently and noticing that Daphne, too, decided to divert her attention to the old hat known to be the Sorting Hat.
An eerie silence hung over the witch and wizards before the Sorting Hat began to twitch over the stool as a mouth similar to a brim opened, and the hat's song began to fill the silence swelling the hall.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall.
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see.
So try me on, and I will tell you,
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you have a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin,
You'll make your real friends.
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So, put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none).
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The hall flooded with a wave of applause as the Sorting Hat bowed to each Houses' tables. The stern witch grabbed a long list of names positioned near the hat and gently opened it as she went through the sorting ceremony's procedure, the keen eyes of the first years trailing her each move like a shadow — including Daphne, who had already forgotten Fred Weasley's words in the heat of the moment.
And, at last, Professor McGonagall began to call names to the front.
"Avery, Cassius!"
A boy wearing a broad smirk with carefully styled hair stepped to the front, each and every one of his steps radiating heavy confidence that Daphne Black wasn't so sure whether she could bear when it was her turn.
Cassius gracefully settled himself to the stool, the smirk on his face not faltering as the Sorting Hat fell over his dark eyes, and without further due, it yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"
As Cassius made his way to the green and silver table, the elderly witch reopened her list to call the next name, and much to the blonde girl's horror, the words that escaped her lips was the one she dreaded. Her name.
"Black, Daphne!"
Daphne's stomach scrunched as tiny droplets of sweat threatened to travel down her forehead, similar to the ones that had pooled within her palms as she persisted in keeping her fists clenched, a way to keep her emotions grounded. She heaved a deep breath to ease her nerves, then, with as much strength as she can muster, Daphne made her way to the stool.
"You're quite eager to get placed into Slytherin, I see," A foreign voice echoed inside her head, making the hairs on her neck rise as waves of fright washed over the girl. She tried to understand why she was so anxious about the ceremony, but as the uptight feeling gnawing in her belly emerged again, the young girl found herself struggling to get rid of it. "Eager to make your family proud by following traditions. You'd certainly make a fine Slytherin."
A short pause followed the Sorting Hat's words as silent murmurs began to travel within the ancient walls of the hall; Daphne Black was one step behind from becoming a hat stall, and all she could do was chant her forefathers' House's name, Slytherin, like sickening mantra crafted simply for the young girl to retain her senses.
"But you're too reckless for that, aren't you? Difficult. Difficult indeed." hummed the Sorting Hat. "Your pride and rash nature has clouded your vision for the inevitable change, child. Then, if you wish it so dearly, better be..."
"SLYTHERIN!"
After a brief moment, all Daphne could hear was the sound of the white noise relentlessly ramming into her ears that muffled the cheerings arising from the green and silver ornamented table.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as her feet carried her beside the seat her old friend, Cassius, had reserved for her. Everything was moving just as the Black matriarch had conveyed to the girl near the judging eyes of the portraits forever resting on the walls of the Grimmauld Place.
Amongst the laughter that followed the sorting ceremony, the pale-eyed girl missed the redhead observing each of her movements across the hall from the shimmering table embellished with the finest red and gold.