A Mysterious Daughter and Snape Torture

“Williams, Jennifer.” The last first year approached the Sorting Hat. A fair girl. Blonde pigtails, blue simpering eyes. Looks really wet. Hufflepuff, for sure. And, as if by magic:

“Hufflepuff!” I smiled to myself. I’d been playing that game throughout dinner, guessing which house each person would be sorted in. I’d actually done pretty well, only missing a couple, but they were Ravenclaw and Huffelpuff, and, in my opinion, were more or less the same.

They didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. I was only really interested in the others. Which would I be?

I’d already struck off the other two; I was smart (even if I do say so myself), but couldn’t be bothered with overworking. I’ll do what I have to do to get by, and no more. What was the point, when I was only there for two years?

And Huffelpuffs – what even was a Huffelpuff? There didn’t seem to be any qualifications, other than being completely wet. Maybe it was just a dumping ground for those who didn’t fit in anywhere else.

But Griffindors and Slytherins? They were intriguing. I didn’t really care which of those I was in, although there was a tiny part of me that didn’t want to be a Slytherin, simply so I didn’t have to deal with that stuck up blonde brat sat with his two thugs.

Mind you, I didn’t really like the look of the dark haired boy in the glasses in Griffindor either. He didn’t look up himself, but I’d been watching him with his friends and he looked like the kind of guy who would just really, really irk me.

Dumbledore stood up at his desk. Now, I did like Dumbledore. Gay as a maypole, but that was all part of his charm. He was the one who’d finally helped me escape that damn orphanage. And he’d brought me here, to the most amazing place on earth.

And then he’d taught me magic. Of course, I’d realised there was something different about me when I got so irritated with my maths test that it burst into flames. But a witch?

That was just ridiculous.

“And finally, to be sorted into sixth year Reilly, Cassiopiea.” The students fell silent again, and I felt all eyes on me. I swallowed back my apprehension as I stood.

I never showed fear.

Striding over to the stool, the teacher holding the hat gave her a smile as tight as her bun. I sat on the stool, crossing and uncrossing my legs. It was a habit when I was nervous.

Suddenly there was a small voice in my ear.

“You should really stop doing that. The entire male population of Hogwarts is looking up your skirt.” I jumped and frantically searched over my shoulder. The entire school erupted with laughter and I flushed, my pale skin becoming an irritatingly obvious shade of pink.

“That’s it, make a good first impression.” There was the voice again. When I listened, it seemed to be coming from inside my head rather than in my ear. “Look girly. It’s me. The hat. I’m on your head. So stop making a spectacle of yourself and let me get on with my job.” I flushed again and faced forwards again, keeping my chin up and trying to control the colour of my cheeks.“Right. Now we’ve got that sorted, I can sort you.” The hat chuckled at its own terrible joke.

“So…there’s the thirst for knowledge there. But you don’t want to work…if you don’t get something first time, you get frustrated. You’ll have to learn, my girl, that’s not how things are here at Hogwarts. There’s a certain need to prove yourself… but to whom?” It laughed again. “The Hufflepuffs aren’t going to be happy if they find out what you think of them. And what’s this? A bit of family history I see. Mother…a Huffelpuff! That’s irony if I ever saw it. Oh, and your father!” I straightened.

“What?” The hat sighed as the school laughed again.

“Say it in your head dear. The whole school’s going to think you’re insane.”

Oh. Right. Sorry.

“Much better.”

What were you saying about my father?

“Give me a chance! Here we go…” There was an awkward silence, and then the hat gasped.

What? What is it?

“Oh…Merlin’s beard! How…how…?”

If you don’t tell me what the hell you’re on about I swear I’ll… The hat was flustered, babbling quickly.

“Well, if you don’t know already, it’s not my place to tell you. I’m sure Dumbledore will tell you sooner or later. However, it does change a lot. There’s only really one place for you.” The hat started to shout to the entire school. “Slyther-“

“Wait!” The hat fell silent again, and there was an awkward silence in the hall. No-one moved. All attention was fixed on me. I felt like the bearded woman at a circus.

But for once, I didn’t care. I didn’t know what, but something about the choice didn’t feel right, and I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t said anything.

Look again! Your decision is because of my father, right?

“Right…” The hat sounded apprehensive.

I never knew my father! He hasn’t affected me in any way, so sort me for who I am, not him. Please!

The Sorting Hat was silent, then;

“Griffindor!”

There wasn’t an eruption of applause and cheering like there had been for the first years. Instead there was a rather confused smattering of applause. Eventually, there was a massive whoop from two ginger haired boys who had been sat whispering throughout the sorting.

I stood up and smiled awkwardly at the hall of gawping kids before deciding to make a show of it and curtsying cutely. There was nervous laughter, but the ginger kids were practically wetting themselves.

I made my way off the dais and strode over to the table below the banner emblazoned with a golden lion, grinning broadly at anyone giving me a funny look. Unfortunately this was most of the school, so I felt like some kind of clown. As soon as I passed the kids started whispering amongst themselves. Every seat I could see was taken.

Then both of my arms were grabbed from behind, and I was wheeled round.

My ‘attackers’ were the ginger boys who had cheered me. At closer inspection they turned out to be completely identical. Even their freckles (and there were a lot of them) seemed to be in the same places.

“Hey.”

“Nice show up there.” Talking to the twins was slightly disconcerting, but I laughed.

“Thanks. I like to make a good first impression. Leave a lasting legacy, y’know?” The twins grinned. “I take it you two are related?” They laughed.

“Good guess. I’m Fred.” He held out his hand and I eyed it wearily. He quickly pulled it back, the tips of his ears turning as red as his hair. Winking, I turned to the other twin.

“And you’re…Fred Mark Two?” Twin Two laughed.

“Close, but no cigar, I’m afraid. George.”

“Right. And are you going to tell me why you’re kidnapping me?” The twins grabbed my
arms again and forced me into a seat between them.

“Only if you tell us why you yelled at the Sorting Hat.” I shrugged.

“Fair trade. It tried to put me in Slytherin.” The twins nodded at the same time.

“That makes it perfectly acceptable.”

“Right. Your turn. I’m being kidnapped why?” The boys shot each other a knowing look.

“Isn’t it reason enough that we’re just being friendly?” I scowled at them, with not quite as much effect as I would have liked, because I had to turn my head between glares to get them both shrivelled.

“No.” The twin I think was George shrugged and opened his mouth, but the one I can only assume was Fred gave him a conspiratorial wink and he shut it.

“We’ll tell you later.”

“Because that doesn’t sound at all shifty.” The-twin-that-may-have-been-George grinned.

“Nope!” Rolling my eyes, I looked around.

“Fine. But what does a girl have to do to get some grub around here?” Possibly-Fred pointed at the teacher’s table. Dumbledore had stood up again and was smiling warmly at everyone.

“To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!” Everyone laughed, but I was focusing on my plate.

It was decidedly empty.

“How does this work? I mean, how does this place feed so man-” My jaw dropped.

Platters, piled high with an amazing array of foods.

There was the traditional turkey, chicken, ham, beef and lamb, mashed, boiled and roasted potatoes, vegetables of every kind and jugs filled to the brim with a sweet smelling liquid. But there was also a huge collection of odd dishes I’d never seen before, and for some reason there was a huge bowl of mint humbugs in the middle of the table.

George, or possibly Fred, shook me by the shoulder.

“Hello? Is anyone still in there?” I blinked.

“What is that?” The twin without his hand on my shoulder followed my gaze.

“That, my dear, is what we like to call a steak and kidney pie.” I snapped out of my reverence and smiled sarcastically at him.

“I know that! But why is it so big?” Both twins frowned.

“Because it wants to be? How the hell are we supposed to know that?”

“And I’m allowed to eat as much of it as I want?” They shot each other a wide eyed look.

“Ummm….yes?” I grinned.

“Perfect.” I tucked in, cutting myself a huge slice and dropping it onto my plate along with a huge lump of mashed potato and several spoonfuls of carrots, then covered the lot with liberal amounts of gravy. The twin on my right raised his eyebrows as he surveyed my plate.

“There’s no way you can eat all of that!”

“Watch me.” And I did. Fred-Or-Maybe-George just stared at me, while the other one
muttered ‘Seconds anyone?’

“Yes please!” I cast around the table looking for something else to demolish.

“Cassiopeia-” I choked on a carrot.

“Cassy, please! I detest my name. Anything’s better than Cassiopeia.”

“Ok. Cassy it is.” George-Although -It-Might-Possibly-Be-Fred smiled broadly, but the one who had tried to shake my hand muttered that Cassiopeia was a ‘lovely name’. I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, so I chose to pointedly ignore it.

Maybe-George continued. “We gingers keep our word. Now, Cassy, tell us about yourself.” I spluttered.

“Why? Are you intending to stalk me or something?”

“Indeed we are. Now, spill. Parents, home, friends. Come on!”

I stared at my fork, which was halfway to my mouth.

“I don’t have any of those things.”

My voice was quiet. I knew those questions would come up at some point, but I didn’t think
I’d have to face them so soon. The twins seemed to understand, and quickly changed the subject.

“So, are you taking your N.E.W.Ts?”

“It’ll be your first year, won’t it?”

“Which ones are you doing?” I smiled gratefully and carried on as if nothing had happened, even grabbing a third course.

“Seriously, how can you eat so much? Surely your stomach would have exploded by now?” I grinned, piling more roasties onto my plate.

“I’m a girl. You wouldn’t understand. Besides,I've never– what is that?” I pointed to a bowl of odd pale meatballs in a thin, lumpy looking gravy.

The twin closest to them picked up the ladle and scooped out a meatball, then watched it drop back into the bowl. The gravy splattered a poor first year boy, getting sauce all down his shirt. The twin ignored him.

“I…I don’t know. But if we leave it much longer, I think it might take over the world.”

But I wasn’t listening. I had launched myself across the table at the bowl, shoving the gravy-covered boy’s plate into his lap. I grabbed it, pulled it back to my place and started spooning it onto my plate. Fred and George just stared.

Finally one of them laughed slightly nervously.

“That’s right. If we eat it all it can’t achieve world domination!” I choked on a meatball.

“How very dare you!” The twins blinked at me. “I will have you know that this is the most amazing dish in the entire universe, and is recognised by most as the national dish of Norway!” They blinked again. “This is the best thing I have ever tasted, and in my presence you will eat it!”

Then, before they had a chance to blink again, I stuck a meatball on my fork and shoved it into one of the twins mouths. He spluttered, spraying the terrified gravy (and now baked beans and sausage wearing) first year.

The poor thing was on the verge of bawling until his friend offered to share a seat with him on the other side of the table. The ginger on my other side nearly fell off his chair he was laughing so hard, until I speared another meatball and plugged his gob with meaty goodness. There was an unusual silence, before-

“What is that?”

“That is seriously amazing!”

“I mean, how can one thing taste so [i[good?”

“How come we’ve never had this before?”

“That is no ordinary meatball!” I grinned and glanced up at Dumbledore. He was watching us and winked. If there was one thing he’d learned about me over the Summer, it was that I loved-

“Kjøttkaker.” The twins stopped ranting about the amazing meatballs and stared at me.

“What did you just call me?” I laughed.

“No! Kjøttkaker! It’s...Norwegian meatballs. That’s all you can really say about it. You have to taste it to believe it.”

The twin on my left grabbed a quill, ink and scrap of parchment from his pocket.

“How do you spell that? We need this recipe for Mum!”

“Ok. K…j…ø…double t…” The scribbling twin stopped and looked up.

“Sorry – what?” I frowned.

“Double t?”

“Nah! That..thing before it. Er? Ur?....” I physically fell off my seat watching the faces Fred was pulling.

Unfortunately, I fell backwards – into a tall lanky man with greasy hair and billowing black robes.