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Hogwarts Castle was as splendiferous as it was described. With its tall, massive cylindrical Norman Romanesque pillars, Medieval Gothic tracery of its expanded, cavernous walls, and the magical lights like fireflies dancing along the roofs. The lights bounced off of the waters of the Black Lake, casting an ethereal glow on the castle.
Perhaps that was intentional. Maybe such a thing, like this castle, was something akin to the Venus Flytraps. Luring you in with its prettiness, and when you get too close, shutting the doors harshly so you cannot get out as it digests you whole.
You've always been the one to go with the flow. This time, however, you found your own feet planted on the ground and unable to move. Where the final stage will take place. Where the first stage took place.
Just looking at this building, all magical, makes you want to run back home and cry.
Is it too much to ask for? You don't know. You don't want to know.
It all plays out like a dream. Before you know it, Severus Snape grabs you by the elbow and drags you to the boats, where the first years are gathered. Then, you're suddenly at the Entrance Hall, being led to the Great Hall.
( You still don't know what to do. )
Even the presence of your longtime friend, the person who's known all this time that you wanted nothing to do with here, can offer you no comfort as you glance uncertainly at Minerva McGonagall. He tries, however, although you offer him no chance this time.
( If it's all going to play out the same anyways, then you should– )
"Evans, Lily Jean."
Gulping. You release your clammy hands from your robes and straighten your back. This is fine. It will be alright. Come on, our dear musician, you have gone through the worst of the worst. How dare this deter you? You wish to survive, yet you're afraid of a mere hat?
McGonagall offers you a simple smile when you sit down on the stool. It doesn't comfort you like she probably intended to, and you can only offer a tight-lipped one back.
Just in mere seconds, you realise, all your secrets are going to be exposed. The ones dear to your heart, that you keep so close, and the ones you're so afraid to share. Popping like a fucked up piñata.
Somebody else is going to be sharing them with you. Even if it's a Hat. Somebody is going to know, and you won't be the only one anymore. Shouldn't that make you feel better? It doesn't, somehow, as your vision gets engulfed with the black ends of the Hat.
