When She Spoke (Marauders Era)

Chapter Three

The Next Morning

If not the time she spent adventuring in the dark corridors of Hogwarts, breakfast was Lark's favorite time of the day. The Slytherin crowd was not a rowdy sort. They didn't pig out as soon as their rear ends hit the bench. They didn't yell at people sitting at the opposite end of the table for an entire conversation. They didn't remain silent for the entire meal, either.

However prejudiced the Slytherin students were rumored to be, Lark still loved them from the very bottom of her heart. Just as any normal student would do, the Slytherins exchanged friendly words at morning mealtime and ate regular foods. They smiled at Lark on occasion and sometimes even attempted to start a conversation, which happened about once a week. All Lark needed to do to contribute her opinion to a topic was use simple facial expressions and nod her head yes and no, and most of the time her peers actually listened for her words, even if they never came.

Lark remembered her sorting as if it was yesterday. She had been so excited, yet giddy and frightened at the same time.

A tight-lipped and young Professor Mcgonagall had called her name, smiling faintly as she did. Lark could see the memories in the Professor's eyes.

The time when she had gotten the teacher a cat toy for Christmas (acknowledging the Professor's ability to transform into a cat).

The time when she had barrelled into her late one night on one of her midnight expeditions.

The day when she had opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Lark shuddered at that last memory, for she had hated that day.

She hopped up three small steps to the stool on which she would be sorted excitedly. Ever since she was young, she had been guessing what house she would be sorted into. Was she clever like a Ravenclaw? Just and hard-working like a Hufflepuff? Brave and loyal like a Gryffindor?

Lark had pestered Tom with these questions at least once a week, and he had always given her the same reply: "You possess the best qualities of each house, and so I believe that your house will be your choice, no more, no less."

After getting the same answer numerous times, she began to ask herself a new question: What did she want? Lark had never actually settled on a final decision. How was she supposed to decide what the next seven years of her life would be like?

That was why just as the old, brown sorting hat was placed upon her dark, wavy locks, Lark felt a sudden chill of terror creep up her spine. She had always asked Tom what would be best for her, but what did he want? What if she was placed in Ravenclaw, and he only thought of her a a know-it-all for the rest of her life? What if she was placed in Gryffindor, and she was made a mockery of for her excessive hubris?

"Ah, what do we have here?", a deep, raspy voice echoed throughout Lark's small mind. "Student number seventy six, correct?", the hat asked. She wasn't sure what to say. Lark had never heard of the students being numbered.

"What to do with you?"

"I was just asking myself the same question," Lark chuckled to herself.

"A talented little girl, you are!", the hat mused. "Brain powers worthy of a Ravenclaw! But I also see the effort of a Hufflepuff and the bravery of a Gryffindor! The loyalty, however, only lies in two places: your heart and your brother, which, if you put it into perspective, are both the same place. I take it back, you would make an awful Hufflepuff."

Lark snorted humorously; the hat had no filters whatsoever.

"But I also see...what's that? Desire for freedom, oh yes. A taste for trouble, thrill, friendship, and adventure. That's my girl, Lark Riddle. I believe that you've found your place. You lack the effort of a Hufflepuff, the loyalty of a Gryffindor, the desire and competition of a Ravenclaw, but there is one place fit for you. You crave the bonds, thrills, and talents that only one house can provide."