"Your body is not who you are.
You shed it like a snake sheds its skin.
Leave it, forgotten, behind you."
─────
𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍
- 𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏
The thin outer covering of the body;
An outer layer.
➵
Born with the type of beauty that many craved, Gemini Delmar...
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07| WHY THE HEADMASTER'S JOKE WAS LEFT UNTOLD
"A thousand years or more ago, When I was newly sewn, There lived four wizards of renown, Whose names are still well known: Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, Fair Ravenclaw, from glen, Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad, Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, They hatched a daring plan To educate young sorcerers Thus Hogwarts School began. Now each of these four founders Formed their own house, for each Did value different virtues In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were Prized far beyond the rest; For Ravenclaw, the cleverest Would always be the best; For Hufflepuff, hard workers were Most worthy of admission; And power-hungry Slytherin Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide Their favorites from the throng, Yet how to pick the worthy ones When they were dead and gone? 'Twas Gryffindor who found the way, He whipped me off his head The founders put some brains in me So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears, I've never yet been wrong, I'll have a look inside your mind And tell where you belong!"
The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished its annual song. The newly arrived first years, shivering with a combination of cold and nerves, looked astonishingly at the hat.
Gemini smiled admiringly, clapping along with the others. Having always been fond of reading stories and exploring literature, she was always charmed by the stories of the four founders of the school the hat poetically narrated.
Draco, on the other hand, had his forehead pressed against her shoulder, looking as if he were traumatised. Pansy was shooting Gemini jealous looks from Draco's other side, and Blaise looked as disinterested as he could, save for the occasional amused glances he would throw at Draco. Evidently, no one was interested in the prolonged process of sorting little eleven-year-olds; no one at the Slytherin table at least.
Professor McGonagall, standing near a three-legged stool at the head of the hall, was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.
Draco mumbled something incoherent into Gemini's shoulder. "What?" she asked, shifting her gaze to him.
"Is it over?" he repeated a bit louder, referring to the sorting.
Gemini patted his blond head. "It's starting now."
