Myfanwy Fenmire - Gryffindor House
Joined: 15/5/05
Origin: London, England.
Myfanwy Fenmire paused at the entrance to the Great Hall, her large, dark eyes bright and her small, dainty frame taut with nervous and excited anticipation. She had always felt some small doubt that she would never be admitted, despite the occasional magical accident she had caused in her almost-eleven years. A childhood growing up in Diagon Alley would have made it very hard for Myfanwy to bear if she had been forced to spend the rest of her life watching witches and wizards, sensing the magic all around her, and yet never being able to participate.
As the First Years were ushered down the middle of the Great Hall, all eyes upon them, Myfawny was conscious of a guilty stab. It felt disloyal to fear the very life that her father was living. A squib born into a strongly magical family, Aneirin Fenmire had spent most of his life immersed in the magical world, forced to watch his family and friends achieving things he could only dream of. Myfanwy knew it was hard for him. His brothers and sisters rarely visited because they felt awkward with their own success, while Aneirin merely had his tiny "Magical Miscellania" shop in Diagon Alley. She remembered an impulse, as he had hugged her farewell, to stay and promise never to learn magic. She knew, although he never spoke it, that he worried she, too, would leave him behind. Yet, even greater than this worry, her father had seemed to fear as much as Myfanwy that she would never be magical and encouraged her to live the life he had been denied.
"Anderson, James!"
A sandy-haired boy stepped nervously forward and donned the famous Sorting Hat. Myfanwy felt a quiver of excitement shoot through her body. It had started! This was what she had yearned for as she watched her mother leave for her job at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes every morning, as she wandered in and out of the shops in Diagon Alley ("But not too far!" Da would warn) and as she had poured over the second-hand books about famous witches and wizards that frequently passed through Magical Miscellania.
"Ravenclaw!" called the Sorting Hat and a red-headed girl - had the Deputy Head called her Allia Edwards? - almost stumbled relievedly to the cheering Ravenclaw table. Myfanwy suddenly felt sick and her natural pink left her smooth, tawny skin.
"Fenmire, Myfanwy!" She resisted the urge to clutch at her stomach. Beatrice Fenmire's daughter would maintain her dignity on her first night at school. Myfanwy tossed her dark curls and stepped stiffly to the waiting Deputy Head. Her sharp eyes noticed something - was that a look of recognition from some of the Professors? Had they connected her with the Professor Beatrice Wellbooke who had left her position at Hogwarts to marry a squib? Sensitive Myfawny quailed for a moment, before pride and determination once more came to her rescue. She sat down firmly on the stool and allowed the Sorting Hat to be placed upon her small head. It was large a large hat and flopped slightly forward into Myfanwy's eyes, but she was more interested in the voice that now filled her mind.
"Hm, you're a tough one. You're bright enough for Ravenclaw..." Myfanwy's heart leapt; her mother had been in Ravenclaw. Her father, however had never had the chance to be sorted. "...And you're fiercely loyal, so perhaps Hufflepuff will do for you...There's the determination...You could be good in Slytherin..." Myfawny began to panic. Perhaps she couldn't be sorted! What would happen then? How long would it take for the hat to decide? Would she be thrown out of school if the Hat couldn't find a house for her? Myfanwy took a deep breath. Her imagination was running away with her as usual. The Hat would find a house for her and, whichever it was, she was determined to make the best of it. "Ahhh...so that's you're attitude is it?" Suddenly the Sorting Hat seemed smug. "You're clearly made for..."
"Gryffindor!"
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