The Sorting Hat's Verdict
Lucia was late and that’s for sure but what she’s not entirely sure of was how a British wizarding school would look like in a century where magic was not accepted even by little Muggle kids. Truth be told, she was scared to come here, not because of the faceless being that drove her over the moat to the banks of Hogwarts’ lake, not because of the thick, dark and muddy forest she’s walking through now that does not allow her to see ahead or above or anywhere at all. She’s not even scared of Headmistress Trelawney who was an honored seer, and who possibly knew who she was.
She tripped towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest and it opened to the grassy lawn of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The massive lawn stretches out until the other side of the island, almost to nowhere and a tiny section of it was being occupied by every witch and wizard Hogwarts have this year. The students that are sorted out to their perspective houses are seated to their designated table, they all sat outside where the massive tables and chairs from the Great Hall are taken out. The whole place looked every bit of the Great Hall saved from the walls, but the special candles were too, illuminating the piece of land that rests below the Hogwarts castle.
Lucia was unsorted, so she belonged to those kids standing around the tables, waiting for their names to be called by Professor Andaires with the sorting hat on her hand. Lucia stepped into the opening and looked at everyone—no one’s eyes were on her, but she feared that they would notice her. She tries to avoid people ever since she was a child. The thought of being exposed—it made her feel sick.
A student walked towards her, flocked by two others—all of them wore arrogant smiles, she already knows why they were here. The first one had a cocky expression, something she’ll likely punch off his face gladly even if the consequence would be broken and bleeding knuckles. His eyes were soft grey; the kind that you would only see during waning moons where it’s enough to illuminate the whole horizon—exactly the form of moon planted in the sky now. The other one was a girl, she had a pair of big hoop earrings which are, Lucia reckoned allowed inside campus. She liked that especially the part where she gets to keep her own piercings. She had a lean body, fit for Quidditch. Her hair was luscious blonde; it was so messy that it might as well be the mane of a lion. The last one was as tall as the first one was muscled. He had pale skin like she does—the exact opposite of the first student. His eyes bore with intelligence, it intimidated her. They all eyed Lucia like a cat would a mouse; the first student spoke: “What year are you in?”
“Are you a prefect?” She asked back. Not wanting to give any information away.
“No.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Out of curiosity,” He shrugged and extended his arm to shake hers, “My name is Moon.”
She quirked an eyebrow, “Moon?”
Moon laughed lightly, realizing she would not shake his hand. He dropped it. “Yes, Moon Lovegood. She’s George and he’s Cole. Were all in our fourth year. How about you?”
“I’m Lucia, I’m in the same year as you lot are. But I’m unsorted. My old school didn’t have divisions.” She said, struggling with the British vocabulary—she didn’t grow up in these parts.
“Don’t you think you’d be in Slytherin too?”
She looked at him with seething eyes, he knows.
“Sure,” she said. But Moon wasn’t convinced if she liked it. “You don’t like Slytherin?” He asked her with complete curiosity, he didn’t mean to be rude. But whenever he was curious, all his senses are turned off.
“I’m not sure, but I think I would rather be in a different house.”
“But aren’t all Malfoys before and recent, went into Slytherin? It should be an honor. It’s almost a tradition.” Moon said. But she detested that.
“No. It’s not an honor to be a Malfoy. Especially if your part of Malfoy was thrown out into poverty, robbed of opportunity and cursed for generations on end,” she would stop talking but she could not—not when she already has her temper rising, “You wouldn’t know what it’s like, you grew up with privilege, Potter.” She spat out.
Lucia walked away, she already caught the attention of her presumed enemy. Draco Malfoy was her great-something-grandfather and The Chosen One was his. Oh yes, she’s starting out really this great year.
“. . .Yule Ball. Remember only fourth year students and older are allowed to join. Third year students and second year students are only allowed to join, if and only if they are invited by older students.” The woman in the raised platform said, her eyes were glum and she probably is too tired of teaching these students—“In a few minutes we will sort the first years and then the transferees. You may continue with your. . . mingling until we call the first name.” She dropped her hands to her side and walked towards the teacher’s platform, she sat next to a man with a square-shaped face and small shoulders who was displeased with her robe sleeve touching his drink.
Lucia looked at the woman sitting between all the faculty members. She reckoned it was Elizabeth Trelawney. She was old but her face was still glowing with youthful mischievousness, she had thin arms, thin body and a long face but she was beautiful—even if she looked half a balding witch and half a fairy queen or some sort of an ethereal being. She’s about as old as her foster parent, but she seemed older and wiser, as if years of prophesying wore her down, maybe the grayish red hair was a testament to that. She didn’t wear any spectacles which Lucia completely envied as her sight have always been worsening.
She stared again, now Headmistress Trelawney was looking at her rather fondly. She wished she was Trelawney’s child, that kind of fond look was only given to her when her aunt was sober.
Lucia focused on Professor Andaires who was the same woman that looked exhausted making the Yule Ball announcement. She called on the first student to sort into a house after the Sorting Hat sang its song, “Parly, Jane!”
A long-haired brown-skinned girl stiffened from the side of Hufflepuff table, she had a little pearl gem stuck on her forehead, a little memento of her family, her heritage, just like Lucia’s M earring.
“Ravenclaw!” Jane Pearly half-ran and half-crawled towards the Ravenclaw table and Pete Scamander, the senior prefect of Ravenclaw, welcomed her to their table. She was so self-conscious that she banged her knee on the table rather too hard that it could have dislocated it, but she pretended that she was fine.
“Moody, Michael!” A series of gasps passed along the whole congregation. Moody was the surname of the most famous Auror of all time before Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. “Is it him?” People asked, “What’s his house?” “Is he as good as Mad Eye Moody?”
“Slytherin!” The Sorting Hat barked.
“Well I guess, not everybody would end up in the house that their ancestors were. After all, Mad Eye Moody was a Hufflepuff.” Lucia muttered to herself.
After a while, Lucia got tired of all the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins that the Sorting Hat barked at them. In fact, she would very much like put that large feast turkey in front of her into its loud mouth. And then, all the first years got dealt with and it was the transferees’ turn to be called.
Profesor Andaires stopped before reading a name, she looked back at the headmistress who gave a reassuring nod. “Alright then, I’ll carry on if you say so Professor.” She paused again, she was almost scared of the name written on the parchment.
“Malfoy, Lusha.” She said and the crowd’s reaction immediately blazed like fire. Lucia thought her name was really a hard name to pronounce, but so was ‘Dumbledore’, they could have asked how it was pronounced before announcing her name.
Lucia’s father’s surname was Marquez but her parents got divorce and like the Malfoys before her, she took the cursed name. Lucia does not remember her mother, much less her whatever she went through. But she knows what their side of Malfoy went through alright. It was gruesome. They were casted out from the manor, took their riches and was left to fend off for themselves starting from Draco Malfoy’s sister Muse to her children, Dorothy, Damon and Theodora to Claine to Sarah to Dorothy and her only child: Olympia Demi Malfoy—Lucia’s mother. And if banishing them was not punishment enough—they were all cursed to never stay married. After Muse, her descendants were almost all women, these women took their mother’s surname and the Malfoy clan grew from Muse and only Muse Renee Malfoy.
Moon Scammander changed his name to Lovegood out of love, it was his choice and his tribute to Luna Lovegood who had died for battling dark witched in Indonesia who endangered the habitats of magical creatures. Lucia’s reason was not out of love, it was the lack of her father’s love—and it was not her choice. She’s dirt-poor and he was the opposite. They were not the same.
“Put me wherever you like.” Lucia whispered to the sorting hat.
“OHH, yes. A Malfoy. A pureblood, and not a trace of muggle in your blood. Loyal, very loyal indeed, a Hufflepuff—almost. And a hard worker! But your knowledge and wit drown that out.” The Sorting hat paused thoughtfully. “Now that’s Ravenclaw. But you can’t be in Ravenclaw.”
“Would you just pick a house?” She thought and the Sorting Hat replied, “Feisty, impatient, cruel, violent, secretive. Now your Slytherin is showing but you don’t want to go there do ya?” Lucia could have listened to that but all she thought was how the Sorting Hat knew that she really does not want to be in Slytherin. “But all these years you have been brave enough to live. Your bravery won.”
At last, the Sorting Hat’s verdict, “Gryffindor!”
Moon met eyes with her across the field, he shook his head, “This is silly.”
Moon Lovegood in Slytherin and Lucia Malfoy in Gryffindor. How great.
Lucia tried to find a seat but everybody seemed to be in shock. Suddenly a hand waved over—it was George, Moon’s friend. She sat down with George, her mouth watered at the sight of the feast in front of her. “I’m really sorry about earlier…” George said but Lucia was far too hungry to be able to reply. “I’m hungry. Let’s talk later, George.” And she gobbled away.
George watched her devour a drumstick and a slice pecan pie and swam in a glass-full of apple juice. “You should slow down. Try not to look like a goblin while eating.” George caught her a napkin to dab on her chin. At last, she choked on a buttered potato. “Slow down, mate. The food will not run out.” Moon crooned from the back, in the middle of the Slytherin table.
Lucia looked at him, eyebrows raised and choking no more, “Don’t talk to me.” Moon dropped his ease, “Alright.” Lucia took another bite and ignored him the rest of dinner.
When the feast ended and Trelawney finished her small speech, students filed inside the castle but she didn’t know where to go and waited in the nook of the door where no one would see her. The students were accompanied by their house prefects to their dormitories.
“Professor,” she called to the ever-smiling Elizabeth Trelawney, her smile was infectious and it urged her to smile back. “I’m a transferee from Subli.” Her stutter made its appearance sometimes, “I’m not sure if you know me but I—I got a l-letter from you and you a-asked for me to come to Hogwarts.” The older woman had a fizzy look on her, as though she’s surprised to see Lucia or as though she does not know her at all. Lucia was scared for nothing, being Malfoy was not a big deal anymore.
“Lucia, yes. I do know you. Follow me to my office.” She stalked away, the Sorting Hat in one hand. “I wanted you here because I saw a prophesy that involved you,” Trelawney looked back, “Not because you’re a Malfoy. I’m sure I have informed you of that?”
“Ah. Yes.” She replied. “A prophesy.”
They climbed the tower and not one of them seemed worn out by the thousand steps they climbed. Trelawney reached the door with a gargoyle statue, she whispered to it, “Cassie and Lizzy’s adventures in the Forbidden Forest.” Lucia pretended to not hear. “I suppose you know who Cassie is?” Trelawney asked but Lucia shook her head. “No. But you’re Lizzy, aren’t you? Elizabeth Trelawney is your full name.”
“Yes I am Lizzy and Cassie. . . she’s an old friend.” But Lucia doubt that. The look in her eyes meant differently.
They reached the interior of Trelawney’s office, it was strangely all in the hue of magenta, it almost reminded her of Dolores Umbridge except for the unmistakable line or rocks on the walls—racks of them.
“May I interest you with apples? I don’t eat sweets, I apologize.” She offered while Lucia’s eyes were on her rock collection. “No thank you.” She smiled, she really does not like to linger despite Trelawney’s warm disposition. Professor Trelawney dropped her apple and walked towards a small bag of things sitting neatly at her table. “Is that Fawkes? He’s still alive?” She stared at the golden Phoenix sitting calmly on a silver nest.
“Ah, yes it is him. We thought he died when Dumbledore passed but he came back many years later. Do you know when?”
“No, Professor.”
“When Mr. Lovegood was born.” Of course, him again. The special one. She took the bag from Trelawney’s arms and bid her respectful goodbye. “Thank you for these, Professor.” And Elizabeth Trelawney smiled at her. She watched her silhouette disappear from the buildings.