Millions of faces crowded all around her, millions of eyes that were fixed on a single point: herself. Millions. She was so sure of it, though she knew, deep down, that that was impossible. Absurd, even. It couldn’t be millions. Still it felt as though the whole world had gathered in front of her to stare. To judge. She could feel it. She could feel it in their stares, she could feel it in the way they whispered her name like it was something filthy, their voices laced with fear, and disgust, and disdain, and hatred, and a hungry, twisted curiosity.
Because they were curious, all right. They were curious to see what would happen. Curious to find out if they were right about her all along. Because every single one of them thought they already knew her because they knew her name. And every single one of them was hoping she’d fail.
A hard knot tightened in her stomach and the familiar, painful hotness of hatred rose high within her.
Let them stare, she thought furiously. Let them judge. Let them sneer.
She would just sneer back harder.
Seven years with these mongrels and she would prove that every single one of them was WRONG.
That was the last thought that soared through her mind before the Great Hall slipped away beneath the hat, and darkness took over, muffling the murmur of voices. Her hands had curled themselves into hard fists, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms …
Well? she snapped. Get on with it.
‘Ah, impatient, aren’t we?’ came a small voice inside her mind.
I’m not impatient, she retorted. I just don’t want your senseless chatter.
‘You sound like every other Black I’ve ever sorted –’
Good. Now put me with every other Black you’ve ever sorted and be done with it.
‘Put you in Slytherin?’ the stinking Hat sounded more surprised than it had any right to be.
Where else would I go? she spat. You wouldn’t dare put me anywhere else. I’m a –
‘Yes, yes,’ the Hat interrupted, as if her protest meant nothing at all. ‘You are a Black … and yet you clutch at the idea of proving everyone wrong for judging you by that very name … Slytherin would suit the expectations, certainly, but don’t pretend you would not do well elsewhere. You’ve a clever mind, quick to learn, quick to notice what others miss. Knowledge is but a weapon to you, but a means to reach an end, but Ravenclaw would not turn you away for that …’
I’m not going to let you shunt me off somewhere pathetic! I’ll show them I’m better on my own, thanks.
‘Better than whom, Walburga?’
Better than everyone, she snapped. Better than those filthy Mudbloods and blood traitors, better than those who think they’re too good to care about me. I don’t need them, you see? I don’t need anyone. Just power. I’ll take it and I’ll make them all choke on it.
‘The desire to prove yourself runs deep,’ it mused. ‘You crave recognition, not just for yourself, but for the name you bear. The name you both hate and love so much. You’d burn the world to prove the Blacks are still what they once were.’
We still are what we once were. We’ll always be better than the rest of them. But if I need to burn the world to show them then I’ll gladly do it.
‘There’s a daring streak in you, I see … even courage,’ the hat continued. ‘You’d fight anyone who dared cross you, friend, family and foe. You wouldn’t hide behind others. You’d face them head-on, and you’d thrive on the challenge. Yes, Gryffindor could make you strong …’
She sneered. Don’t insult me. I’m no Gryffindor.
‘No? You sound very certain. And yet –’
I SAID I’M NO GRYFFINDOR!
The Hat laughed a deep, echoing laugh only she could hear. ‘Very well, my proud little serpent. If you’re so determined, who am I to deny you? If this is the path you have chosen … Yes, it had better be –
SLYTHERIN!’