Author: Lyta Padfoot
Category: General, Drama
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Characters and situations are used without permission, no infringement is intended.
Summary: The Sorting Hat has an interesting student to place.
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The candles suspended above her head made Miranda very nervous. Part of her knew that there was a probably a spell to prevent hot wax from dripping down on people - she certainly had yet to hear anyone hiss in pain and surprise - but after eleven years of living without magic it was a difficult thing to put her trust in.
"Waterworth, Miranda!"
The sound of her own name made her jump. From somewhere in the room she heard the snickers of older students and felt her cheeks burn, one hand automatically moving to smooth her robes, they were second hand, the best her family could afford. Miranda fingered the sleeve and remembered standing on a kitchen chair while her mother carefully pinned the robes to the correct length, a smile lighting her care worn features, taking care that the hem could be lowered later as the girl grew taller. I've every right to be here, she told herself firmly as she stepped forward with all the dignity she could muster.
As she climbed onto the stool and set the hat over her head she idly wondered if in addition to sorting students the hat could produce live rabbits. She'd read about that trick in books and had always wanted to see it performed. Miranda liked rabbits and secretly wanted one for a pet.
It suddenly occurred to her that she'd been sitting on the stool with the oversized hat on her head for some time without anything happening. She tugged on the brim and hoped she hadn't managed to damage it already; the hat looked very old.
At that thought she heard a soft laugh tickle her ear. Damage me?
The voice spoke in her mind, the cadence completely different from the sound of her own thoughts. She never doubted it was the voice of the Sorting Hat. She waited for the voice to speak again, but nothing happened. She swung her feet a little and gripped the underside of the stool, trying to quell her rising nervousness. What if the letter was a horrible mistake and she wasn't a witch at all?
Sometimes one learns more through silence than with questions, the voice answered. Now, where shall I put you?
Miranda tried to recall what Professor Dumbledore had said about the four houses; she couldn't imagine fitting into any of them. She wasn't especially brave, loyal, clever or ambitious.
You underestimate yourself, the hat informed her. Miranda found it more than a little creepy that the hat was able to read her mind like some of the alien characters could in her brother Charlie's science-fiction magazines. She'd passed many an afternoon with Charlie reading from the collection stored under his bed. Sometimes she could forget that she didn't have any friends. Charlie adored his little sister, but there were some things no magic wand could fix, at eleven Miranda understood that better than most.
Your mother doesn't approve of your reading those magazines.
This is bloody embarrassing, she thought sourly.
Indeed, agreed the voice, and we had best move along. I believe you will make a memorable RAVENCLAW!
The last word was spoken aloud and echoed a little in Miranda's ear as she took off the hat, shaking like a leaf with relief. This wasn't going to be like at her old school where she was the strange girl nobody wanted on their team. She whispered her thanks to the hat as she set it back on the stool and thought she heard pleased laughter as she was greeted by her new house.
At least I'm with the blue team, a smiling Miranda thought as she passed the Hufflepuffs. She couldn't stand yellow.