Fic: The Question That Drives Us (No Challenge)
Title: The Question That Drives Us
Author: xshotofclarityx
Summary: A student is sorted.
Characters/Pairings: OCs, Harry Potter, Dennis Creevey, mentions of others unnamed…
Spoilers: Mild spoilers for the sorting chapter in “Goblet of Fire.”
Challenge: Ravenclaw In-House Contest, but I was late, so it never counted for any real challenge...IDK if I'm required to say so though.
Rating/warnings: PG/Nothing, really, just mild allusions to femmeslash and angst
WC: 1315
I was very happy when I received my letter to Hogwarts. That was my victory day. I was able to tell my dad, “Ha, see, I told you I wasn’t a squib!” as he had so insisted me and my brother were from the day we were born. It would be another couple of years before my brother would be able to say for sure whether he was or not. Dad had been a proud pureblood Slytherin and was extremely hopeful that his kids would be as well. Unfortunately, he ended up with idiots like us.
Dad looked at me with only a hint of astonished bemusement, “Well, don’t worry, I hear Hufflepuff will ‘take the rest.’”
“I was in Hufflepuff,” Mum glared.
“You see what I mean,” Dad replied in a way that he must have thought was a very amusing joke.
“We’re very hard-workers…and honest, patient and loyal,” Mum defended her house, then turned once more to me, “Things I can only wish you were.”
“Thanks mum,” I look at her sideways.
“Well you have plenty of sarcasm for Slytherin,” Dad said, wistfully, “and lack the nerve of Gryffindor, and only selective intelligence…maybe you will fulfill my legacy after all.”
I want so badly to tell him that wasn’t much of a legacy, and disprove that comment about lacking nerve, but all I managed was, “Sure dad” with a much practiced smile. I know he means well…somewhere.
This conversation turned over in my brain all the way until the day of the sorting. Hogwarts was nothing like I imagined. Mum and dad made it sound so bourgeois, but I was struck by all the magic influencing their daily lives, just like home, but better, and independent of itself. Like the castle was alive…
I would be able to muse on the wonders of this place more as we sat before the Great Hall and listened to Headmaster Dumbledore speak. He looked a bit like how muggles depicted wizards - in colored robes and beards and pointed hats. It was rather comical, really, set against the splendor of this place. I listened to him go on a bit about wizarding politics, some of the history of the school that I remembered from when mum would read us stories from Hogwarts, a History. It had been updated to include Harry Potter, who I noticed was sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing a bit with some red-headed kids and a girl with horrible British teeth. Then the Headmaster mentioned this year would be a special year, as we would be hosting “The Tri-wizard Tournament.” Dad had been exceptionally jealous when we got the news that I would be starting Hogwarts during such an important time. I briefly imagined entering the tournament myself, not really sure what it was for, but just for the challenge of something new and...the chance to make him more jealous. Whatever he was jealous for. Stupid thing, really, I thought, jealousy. Who am I to try to change his mind? Mum always tried to do that, and look where that got her. Nowhere. At least this way I’ll be free and might even learn something. You always learn something. Even when you don’t. That makes sense somewhere.
So I was quite absorbed enough in my own thoughts as Headmaster Dumbledore ushered in the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrung. The two other schools competing in the tournament, I gathered from the bits of information I managed to pay attention to. The blokes from Durmstrung sat at a table I recognized from the insignia from Dad’s old uniform as Slytherin’s, and several girls from what I suppose was Beauxbatons sat at what I heard one from Harry Potter’s table as “Ravenclaw’s.” My eyes seemed particularly compelled to watch the young woman leading the troupe, almost like a dance. I was practically mesmerized, until the muggleborn, Dennis Creevey, sopping wet git who couldn’t stay in the boat, waved to his brother again. He was almost proud. He reminded me of my own idiot brother. By the time I looked back on the procession for the girl who had caught my attention, she was lost to the crowd. I shook it off. I wondered what had attracted me in first place. Magical bewilderment not far from my mind. But then what else was I expecting from a school for wizards and witches? I decided I should probably learn to block any future bewitching, but for now, rather enjoyed the ride.
Then our headmaster announced we would commence the sorting before the feast, and a very serious looking woman beside him stepped forward and produced an old wizard’s hat. Each of the new students sat in the chair as she called their names. The hat then told what house they would be in, and the kids joined their respective tables. Mum and dad had told both of their “versions” of the sorting process, but once again both were pretty much dead wrong, especially about the hat. Mum had described it as old and musty. When it was my turn, I did detect it had a certain smell, “like old potions”, but it wasn’t off-putting, really. And dad found it grotesque, but he found a lot of things that weren’t grotesque, so this didn’t surprise me. When I saw it, I really wasn’t sure whether I should refer to it as male or female, I thought, “Friend?”
Then I took my seat and the hat was placed on my head, and a voice whispered into my ear, “Yes, yes, yes, let’s see…” it was slightly unnerving, having it so close, “ooh, you’re nervous? That’s telling, very telling…” but it soon became clear that the hat meant me absolutely no harm, and I relaxed again, “You have great amount of ambition and resourcefulness, as well as excellent skills of self-preservation - you would do very well in Slytherin.” No, I thought, I’d just end up like dad, “You have a great deal more courage than even you give yourself credit…” I wonder curiously about this, “as well as patience - when you want something, but even show compassion when you stand to gain nothing…” the hat seemed to be as confused as I was at this point, “You like attention, but not as an end within itself and seem on occasion frightfully paranoid of any that you consider false. You really do have a lot more Slytherin than I think even you want to admit. You have intelligence, certainly, but…” no I don’t, I thought, starting to argue again, though not really wanting to, I don’t know everything, after all, but no sooner was it in my head, then the hat replied, “but not a lot of knowledge. Yet. You’ve got a great capacity for learning, and that is where your capacity seems to be strongest. You seem almost compelled by your curiosity, tell me, Cynthia, what is a container that you can keep putting things in but will never fill?” I thought for a minute, unaware that this was some sort of test, I hadn’t studied and never cared for tests anyway as it only teaches enough to pass, and soon the anxiety began to cloud my thoughts when I finally retrieved the answer, The human mind? “Very good, though you sound a bit unsure of yourself. All the makings of a wise, young,” and it announced, “Ravenclaw!”
“MCMILLAN, Cynthia, Ravenclaw,” repeated the old witch, as I hopped down to join the other Ravenclaws at their table. Rather surprised to be among the wizards and witches best known for being the “most brilliant” but feeling altogether at peace that this was exactly where I belong. Then I smiled across the table at the older girl from Beauxbatons and felt my heart flutter when she smiled in return. Compulsory as it may have been, it was a start of what was looking to be a very promising beginning.
Cynthia//Ravenclaw 26.3 points
Author: xshotofclarityx
Summary: A student is sorted.
Characters/Pairings: OCs, Harry Potter, Dennis Creevey, mentions of others unnamed…
Spoilers: Mild spoilers for the sorting chapter in “Goblet of Fire.”
Challenge: Ravenclaw In-House Contest, but I was late, so it never counted for any real challenge...IDK if I'm required to say so though.
Rating/warnings: PG/Nothing, really, just mild allusions to femmeslash and angst
WC: 1315
I was very happy when I received my letter to Hogwarts. That was my victory day. I was able to tell my dad, “Ha, see, I told you I wasn’t a squib!” as he had so insisted me and my brother were from the day we were born. It would be another couple of years before my brother would be able to say for sure whether he was or not. Dad had been a proud pureblood Slytherin and was extremely hopeful that his kids would be as well. Unfortunately, he ended up with idiots like us.
Dad looked at me with only a hint of astonished bemusement, “Well, don’t worry, I hear Hufflepuff will ‘take the rest.’”
“I was in Hufflepuff,” Mum glared.
“You see what I mean,” Dad replied in a way that he must have thought was a very amusing joke.
“We’re very hard-workers…and honest, patient and loyal,” Mum defended her house, then turned once more to me, “Things I can only wish you were.”
“Thanks mum,” I look at her sideways.
“Well you have plenty of sarcasm for Slytherin,” Dad said, wistfully, “and lack the nerve of Gryffindor, and only selective intelligence…maybe you will fulfill my legacy after all.”
I want so badly to tell him that wasn’t much of a legacy, and disprove that comment about lacking nerve, but all I managed was, “Sure dad” with a much practiced smile. I know he means well…somewhere.
This conversation turned over in my brain all the way until the day of the sorting. Hogwarts was nothing like I imagined. Mum and dad made it sound so bourgeois, but I was struck by all the magic influencing their daily lives, just like home, but better, and independent of itself. Like the castle was alive…
I would be able to muse on the wonders of this place more as we sat before the Great Hall and listened to Headmaster Dumbledore speak. He looked a bit like how muggles depicted wizards - in colored robes and beards and pointed hats. It was rather comical, really, set against the splendor of this place. I listened to him go on a bit about wizarding politics, some of the history of the school that I remembered from when mum would read us stories from Hogwarts, a History. It had been updated to include Harry Potter, who I noticed was sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing a bit with some red-headed kids and a girl with horrible British teeth. Then the Headmaster mentioned this year would be a special year, as we would be hosting “The Tri-wizard Tournament.” Dad had been exceptionally jealous when we got the news that I would be starting Hogwarts during such an important time. I briefly imagined entering the tournament myself, not really sure what it was for, but just for the challenge of something new and...the chance to make him more jealous. Whatever he was jealous for. Stupid thing, really, I thought, jealousy. Who am I to try to change his mind? Mum always tried to do that, and look where that got her. Nowhere. At least this way I’ll be free and might even learn something. You always learn something. Even when you don’t. That makes sense somewhere.
So I was quite absorbed enough in my own thoughts as Headmaster Dumbledore ushered in the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrung. The two other schools competing in the tournament, I gathered from the bits of information I managed to pay attention to. The blokes from Durmstrung sat at a table I recognized from the insignia from Dad’s old uniform as Slytherin’s, and several girls from what I suppose was Beauxbatons sat at what I heard one from Harry Potter’s table as “Ravenclaw’s.” My eyes seemed particularly compelled to watch the young woman leading the troupe, almost like a dance. I was practically mesmerized, until the muggleborn, Dennis Creevey, sopping wet git who couldn’t stay in the boat, waved to his brother again. He was almost proud. He reminded me of my own idiot brother. By the time I looked back on the procession for the girl who had caught my attention, she was lost to the crowd. I shook it off. I wondered what had attracted me in first place. Magical bewilderment not far from my mind. But then what else was I expecting from a school for wizards and witches? I decided I should probably learn to block any future bewitching, but for now, rather enjoyed the ride.
Then our headmaster announced we would commence the sorting before the feast, and a very serious looking woman beside him stepped forward and produced an old wizard’s hat. Each of the new students sat in the chair as she called their names. The hat then told what house they would be in, and the kids joined their respective tables. Mum and dad had told both of their “versions” of the sorting process, but once again both were pretty much dead wrong, especially about the hat. Mum had described it as old and musty. When it was my turn, I did detect it had a certain smell, “like old potions”, but it wasn’t off-putting, really. And dad found it grotesque, but he found a lot of things that weren’t grotesque, so this didn’t surprise me. When I saw it, I really wasn’t sure whether I should refer to it as male or female, I thought, “Friend?”
Then I took my seat and the hat was placed on my head, and a voice whispered into my ear, “Yes, yes, yes, let’s see…” it was slightly unnerving, having it so close, “ooh, you’re nervous? That’s telling, very telling…” but it soon became clear that the hat meant me absolutely no harm, and I relaxed again, “You have great amount of ambition and resourcefulness, as well as excellent skills of self-preservation - you would do very well in Slytherin.” No, I thought, I’d just end up like dad, “You have a great deal more courage than even you give yourself credit…” I wonder curiously about this, “as well as patience - when you want something, but even show compassion when you stand to gain nothing…” the hat seemed to be as confused as I was at this point, “You like attention, but not as an end within itself and seem on occasion frightfully paranoid of any that you consider false. You really do have a lot more Slytherin than I think even you want to admit. You have intelligence, certainly, but…” no I don’t, I thought, starting to argue again, though not really wanting to, I don’t know everything, after all, but no sooner was it in my head, then the hat replied, “but not a lot of knowledge. Yet. You’ve got a great capacity for learning, and that is where your capacity seems to be strongest. You seem almost compelled by your curiosity, tell me, Cynthia, what is a container that you can keep putting things in but will never fill?” I thought for a minute, unaware that this was some sort of test, I hadn’t studied and never cared for tests anyway as it only teaches enough to pass, and soon the anxiety began to cloud my thoughts when I finally retrieved the answer, The human mind? “Very good, though you sound a bit unsure of yourself. All the makings of a wise, young,” and it announced, “Ravenclaw!”
“MCMILLAN, Cynthia, Ravenclaw,” repeated the old witch, as I hopped down to join the other Ravenclaws at their table. Rather surprised to be among the wizards and witches best known for being the “most brilliant” but feeling altogether at peace that this was exactly where I belong. Then I smiled across the table at the older girl from Beauxbatons and felt my heart flutter when she smiled in return. Compulsory as it may have been, it was a start of what was looking to be a very promising beginning.
Cynthia//Ravenclaw 26.3 points