touch

3

It's a mystery to me how long I stayed outside since I arrived to the castle, but I'm sure it was long enough for the students to get to their rooms.

I hurry down the hallway, and spot a large set of doors, one of which open slightly to where I could hear something. I approach the door and pull it open.

"Rockwood, Valkyrie."

The second I enter the room; I hear my name announced. The room was actually a great hall. It looked familiar... and I realized that every single student at Hogwarts sat amongst the tables. At the far end of the room a group of small students stood before a stool and an old brown hat. The woman who called my name stood waiting expectantly beside it.

The Sorting Ceremony. Neville told me about this... it's when new students get sorted into houses.

I start towards the woman and the front of the hall. All eyes are on me now. I recognize Harry and his friends sitting at one table, and Harry offers me a small smile, but I quickly look away not wanting to reciprocate it.

As I walk, I realized where I'd seen this place before. Glancing up slightly at the cloudy celling I nod. This is what Dumbledore showed me when we first met.

Speaking of, I realize that Dumbledore himself sat at a table. He faced the hat and all the students along with other adults who I'm guessing were the professors.

I looked right at him, and he looked back at me. He didn't seem surprised at all to see me here.

When I finally reach the woman, she held the hat up. Taking a breath, I sat on the stool facing the entire school. I noticed, before the hat covered my eyes, Draco Malfoy slipping into the hall.

The hat over my head, I hear a low voice. 'Hm, peculiar, peculiar indeed, Valkyrie.'

I furrow my eyebrows as it continues. 'Your parents were bright stars in their houses... now just where to put you... You're quite the learner, huh? Ravenclaw would definitely suffice. Oh, but there is so much of everything else, yes. Cunning, for sure. Would you faire in Slytherin?'

Having no idea what it means I say nothing, and the voice continues to ponder. 'But your heart, so courageous, so daring... I think I'm going to have to go with—'

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheering erupts from the hall, and I feel the hat slip from the top of my head. A single row of tables cheered, its occupants wearing red and gold. I stand up hesitantly and walk down to join them.

Immediately, a couple of people pat their hands on my back and my mind is bombarded with contrasting images. There was one of a red headed guy in a joke shop, replaced with a man hands deep in a garden, replaced with an unrecognizable body lying on a marbled floor.

I cringe away from the touches slightly, and they quickly catch on, pulling away and talking to me instead. "Well how about this: a transfer! Don't often seen them this late! What are you sixth year? Fred, come take a look. sixth year, yeah?"