The Scars to Prove It

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Farren had thought that the décor of Hogwarts would be the most surprising thing she saw tonight. Her father had told her all about the sorting, the boats, and the gamekeeper, Hagrid. She had heard about all of the teachers and the ghosts. She didn’t bat an eye at the sight of the night sky reflected on the ceiling. But the one thing she was unprepared for was a Slytherin by blood to be sorted into Gryffindor, her house. She watched in shock as Carina nearly skipped toward the Gryffindor table.

Lee nudged her and gave her a look as if to say, ‘she was sorted into Gryffindor, she can’t be that bad.’ Farren thought so too, but definitely wasn’t going to tell Lee that. Shaking off her surprise, Farren returned her attention to the sorting.

Farren cheered loudest when Lee was sorted into Gryffindor, and then watched as all her companions from the train followed suit. A few unknowns were sorted elsewhere, and soon Farren was standing all by her lonesome in front of the dais.

“Farren Zabell,” called Professor McGonagall.

Farren was awash with excitement as she quickly made her way toward the stool. She sat down, the tips of her shoes barely grazing the floor, and glanced toward the Gryffindor table. The smiling faces of Lee, Fred, George, and even Carina, were the last things she saw before she was plunged into darkness.

After nearly a minute and a half of silence, the hat spoke.

Zabell. Farren Zabell.

That would be me.

Metamorphmagus extraordinaire, and every bit your father’s daughter.

Farren grinned underneath the frayed brim, her face flushed with pride.

Why thank you.

Don’t mention it. Now, what house would you like?

Farren’s brows came together in confusion. That wasn’t what she had been told by her father.

Um. . . I’m not sure that’s exactly how it’s supposed to work. Aren’t you supposed to find the house that I’m best suited for, not just the one I want?

Farren felt the Sorting Hat shake with silent laughter.

Under normal circumstances, yes. But you, my dear, are anything but.

Says the talking hat.

Point taken.

So why am I anything but normal?

Farren, you are impossible to sort.

What? You can’t sort me? Does that mean I have to leave?

Farren felt her breath quicken in anxiety and saw her hair turn a sickly shade of green. She had been so excited to come to Hogwarts, and her father had been so proud. She couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t. She forced her hair to behave.

No, no, no. You don’t have to leave. I just can’t confidently sort you into your better house.

Oh, well that makes you a rather pathetic excuse for a sorting hat.

The hat shifted on her head, chuckling to itself. The attention of the entire hall was upon them. Farren had been under the hat for around four minutes. Everyone was sitting at rapt attention, not a single whisper ran through the hall. Even the Headmaster was deeply engrossed; he sat on the edge of his chair, his elbows leaning on the table.

This doesn’t happen often. I am usually rather good at my job. You are an anomaly that comes along once every 50 years: a student that could do equally well in two different houses. You have two separate destinies, two paths that your life could take. Your life could go in two different directions depending on the house that you’re sorted into, and either path would do you well in the long run. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are both wonderful matches for you.

Oh.

You see my dilemma. You are a strong, brave, young girl, and independent beyond your years. You have a quick temper, and you also have a slight pride problem. An exact match for Gryffindor, to a tee. On the Ravenclaw side, though, you are extremely intelligent, organized, and clever. You maintain and open mind and you recognize your short comings and are smart enough to control them, at times.

The hat crinkled with a wry smile, then continued.

Therefore, being a perfect match for Ravenclaw as well.

Oh my, you really do have a problem.

Farren laughed, but no one even noticed. They were all focused on Professor McGonagall as she stepped forward and reached to remove the hat from Farren’s head.

As the hat was brought over her eyes, she blinked in shock, her eyes adjusting rapidly to the light.

The professor gestured Farren off of the stool. Farren got up slowly, her legs quaking beneath her. She was suddenly very nervous. Her future was about to be decided.

Biting her lip nervously, she stood and waited, her eyes trained on the pair. The Sorting Hat twisted in her direction and managed to wink a tattered patch. Farren felt a little bit better.

The hat smiled and ripped open at its brim. “Gryffindor!!!”

Farren grinned brilliantly, a rush of pure happiness flooding through her. She turned and walked swiftly toward the table on her right were her friend were all cheering.

She slid in between Lee and Fred, across from Carina.

“Farren!” exclaimed Lee, “You gave us quite a fright there for a bit. Thought we were gonna lose our secret weapon.”

Fred and George nodded their agreement, and Farren laughed.

“Never.”

The hall went quiet and still as the Headmaster stood. He smiled kindly, and then spoke.

“Students, what you just witnessed was an extremely rare occurrence. Miss Zabell is what we like to call a hatstall: a student who matches the qualities of more than one house. That would be why the sorting took such a long time. Now! Onto the feast!”

There was a collective gasp as food appeared on the tables in front of them, and everyone began to eat. Introductions were made between bites, and conversation buzzed. Even Carina and Farren managed to get a conversation going, helped considerably along by the delicious feast.

When everyone had their fill, Dumbledore stood and spoke about the coming school year, introduced a new teacher, and issued a warning about the forest. Then, the students were sent to bed.

Farren walked side by side with Carina down the halls and up the shifting staircases. She smiled every time that Carina gasped in awe. They reached their common room and discovered that they would be sharing a room for the next seven years.

The tension in the air was palpable as Carina and Farren unpacked, their respective beds next to one another. Angelina and Alicia felt the tension, and quickly pulled their curtains shut, leaving the two girls alone to talk.

After unpacking, Farren sat on her bed and faced Carina’s. Carina felt her stare and abandoned her packing, choosing instead to mirror Farren.

“Look,” began Farren, “we’re going to be sharing this dorm for the next several years, and I don’t want to be fighting all the time.”

Carina nodded her agreement. “I feel the same. Perhaps it would be best if we called a truce,” she said softly.

Farren, wanting to prove her place in the Gryffindor house, shook her head no. Carina paled considerably, but then Farren grinned and stuck out her hand.

“How about friends instead?”

Carina smiled warmly, and spoke with confidence.

“Friends.”