The Art Of Magic.

Chapter 6: Hogwarts.

The darkness slowly drifted away when I stopped struggling.
Oliver had me on my back on the seat, and was shaking my shoulders. He was screaming something, but all I could hear was a long ringing noise.
A man was there, with a rag over my forehead. Oliver looked up at the man, and nodded.
Oliver stood up strapped my bag around his back, and scooped his arms under my back and legs, and with a big huff, he lifted me.
Anxiety. I felt it, but I couldn't do anything.
I breathed hard. The darkness came back, and engulfed my thoughts.

I awoke to the sound of crackling fire. I sat up quickly and looked around the room, and began to scream.
People came and held down my arms and legs. I kicked and jerked. I almost got lose, but they tightened their grip.
I looked down my body, and they were all nurses, except one. The one that held down my right leg, was an old women, with a green pointy hat, with a feather. I focused on her. Oliver was behind her, with panic in his eyes.
When I saw him, I began to calm. I lay there, and breathed heavily, watching the cobblestone ceiling. Their grips released, and I sat up.

"WHERE AM I!?"I yelled.
Oliver sat by me, and handed me a silver cup. It was cold.
"It's water." He said, clearing his throat. "Your at Hogwarts."
I looked at the drink.
It looked like water, but I knew better. I sat the drink on my night stand, and stood up.

I wasn't allowed to leave, unless Oliver came with me.
Great, I thought, now I'm forced to be around this moron.

He placed a black pointy hat on his head, with the Slytherins symbol in the middle.
"I'm taking you to the sorting ceremony." He said.
We arrived at the dining hall. It was filled with first years waiting in line, waiting to be placed in a house, waiting to be placed in their life.
I joined the crowd as Oliver made his way to the Slytherin dining table. He sat next to the boy that cast the spell on me.
The boy glanced at me, and I quickly looked away.
A tall man with a white robe, and big long brown beard began calling names. This was going to take a while.
I looked down and began to stare at my hand.
I rubbed my palm.
It hurt, it stung, it burned, it was...on fire..
Yes, the fire was burning a black hole in my hand.
It was spreading. Down my arm, up my shoulder, and slowly creeping across my chest and back. I closed my eyes and screamed. I heard a scream, but it wasn't mine. The scream was so loud, it shook the glasses, and tables. I held my ears, to block the horrific screech, and I felt something warm, and thick. I looked at my hands, and it was covered in blood. I glanced up at the people, and they were starring at me.
I looked back down at my hands, and the blood was gone. And the scream was gone, and in the far distance, I could hear my name.

"Seriah, Willikon." They announced.
They called my name.
I shook my head, clenched my teeth, and clutched my fist.
I walked up slowly, up a small flight of stars, and sat on a stool.
The man held a scroll in one hand, and in the other, was a witch hat.
The man slowly placed the hat on my head.
It moved.
It twisted.
It spoke.
"Hmmm....smart....really, really smart.....mmmm....brave, and witty...but where to put you...hmmmm" it barked.
I flinched.
A silence grew across the crowd. I trembled in fear.
And in the moment we least expected. The hat roared.

"RAVENCLAW!".