Becoming Corruption

Not a single soul moved as the sorting hat sealed my fate.

No one cheered. Not a clap, not a holler, not even an awkward cough. Everyone just stared up at me with a dumbfound expression, waiting to see what I’d do next. The Gryffindors didn’t want me, and now I looked like a traitor to my families name for being sorted into Gryffindor.

Slowly, I slid off the stool as McGonagall took the sorting hat off my head. I stood rooted to the spot, staring between the Gryffindor table and the Slytherin table. Draco’s eyes were blazing with fury, and Ron and Harry were staring at me with such a powerful disgust it made my stomach churn. For half a moment I contemplated just running right back out of the Great Hall.

Then, from behind me, a loud clap began to pick up; glancing over my shoulder, I caught Hagrid and Dumbledore smiling at me as they clapped heartily. The rest of the teachers slowly joined in, and most of the indifferent Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students clapped as well as I stiffly made my way down the stairs and over to the Gryffindor table. The kids on the end of the bench closest to me scooted as far down as possibly. Awkwardly, I sat down on the very edge of the bench. No one sat across or next to me, but that was fine. I kept my eyes trained on the table in front of me as Dumbledore put his hands together and said,

“Let the feast begin!”

As the food sprung up onto the plates, I just stared sadly. I'd once been enthralled by Draco's stories about the magic food; now it all just made me sick. I could still feel all eyes on me as I reached for a roll and began to munch it slowly. Further up the table, I heard Harry sneering,

“I never thought we’d get trash like that dumped into Gryffindor.”

My cheeks grew hot; I forced myself to continue eating the roll so I’d at least be doing something. It took all my concentration to keep the emotion off my face; I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of humiliating me. If this had been happening at Beauxbatons, I would be pulling out my wand, preparing to duel to earn my respect. But this wasn't Beauxbatons, and if I did something like that here... well, if Draco didn't kill me, father sure would.

Though the meal seemed to drag on for years, I didn't want it to end. As painfully embarrassing as it was to sit here and be ridiculed, the aftermath of this sorting would be twice as worse. Because I knew the second I stepped out of the great hall, Draco would tear into me about my latest predicament.

I waited until I was the very last Gryffindor at the table before I reluctantly got to my feet and began to trudge out towards the hall. The moment I left the Hall, two hands grabbed my shoulders and dragged me aside. Draco’s blue eyes burned with anger as he glowered down at me.

“What the bloody hell was that all about!?”

“I had no idea it would sort me into Gryffindor!” I defended, feeling my face flush with shame. Draco squeezed my shoulders a bit harder as he snarled,

“You could have asked it to place you in Slytherin, Rowan!”

“How was I supposed to know that, Draco?! I’ve never talked to a hat before!”

“You just made me the biggest laughing stock of the school! What will mother and father think when they learn what house you’re in?!”

“Please don’t tell them!” I begged; Draco's hands tightened, andI shoved him back. He let go of me, his blue eyes smoldering. Shaking his head in disgust, he hissed,

“You really messed this one up, Rowan.”

With that, my brother spun on his heel and stalked off after Blaise and Flint. Draco’s words hung in my mind as I made my way up the stairs.

Father’s going to be furious when Draco tells him, I thought miserably, pausing at the top of the stairs to brush my hair back off my face. As I stood there, another depressing thought hit my mind.

Well, great. Just great. I have no idea where the Gryffindor common room is.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I decided to go right and take my chances down the hall. About half an hour later, I realized I was miserably lost. Why the hell did the staircases have to move? What kind of sick joke was that?

With a weary groan, I leaned up against the wall, thunking my head back onto the brick as I slid down to the floor. Since I was wearing a skirt, I couldn’t curl up into the fetal position like I wanted, so I resorted to dropping my hands in my lap, leaning my head back as I stared up at the ceiling.

Why did I have to get kicked out of Beauxbatons? Sure, life at that school was hell, but at least I knew where I belonged. I knew who to stay away from, I knew who I could talk to, and I knew where to go and what to do. At Beauxbatons, I got to make my own reputation. Here, Draco had already made one for me.

I felt tears well up in my eyes for the second time that night; squeezing my eyes shut in frustration, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. Angry at myself for crying, I vicsiouly wiped it away and dropped my hand back onto my lap. More started to fall; I let out a shaky breath.

“For your information,” a voice said from in front of me. “The entrance to the Gryffindor common room is exactly three feet to your right.”

My eyes flew open in shock, and I found myself looking into a pair of blue eyes framed by a sweep of flaming hair. Though my brain said Weasley, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. This so-called Weasley was actually well kempt. His hair, though a little unruly, was styled nicely, and he had a rather charming smile as he stared down at me.

“Oh, er, thanks,” I said softly, hastily wiping my cheeks. Before I could scramble to my feet, the boy stuck his hand down towards me. Uncertainly I took his hand, and he pulled me easily to my feet. He gave my hand a squeeze and said,

“Pleasure to meet you Rowan. The password is ‘fiddle sticks’.”

Had I told him my name? No, I hadn’t… So had he actually remembered it from the sorting ceremony? Blinking at his words, the boy managed to pull his hand from mine and get all the way down the hall before I called,

“Thank you!”

Only once I was in the common room did I realize I had no idea what his name really was.

The common room was nearly empty and quiet except for the soft crackle from the fireplace across the room. Though I was confused as to which staircase to use, I caught sight of a little first year boy scampering up the stairs on the right, so I went up the left. Being smarter than the average human, I managed to figure out that there were six different dorms, one for each year. Finding number six, I quietly pushed the door open, praying to go unnoticed.

“Oh look, the Malfoy prat is here,” a girl sneered from the side. Meeting her eyes, she smirked at me and said, “We gave you a little welcome surprise.”

Dreading what it could be, I wove my way through the occupied bunks, looking for my trunk. Oh boy, did I find it.

All my contents had been strewn across the floor, with several pieces of my clothes knotted together. I saw one of my favorite shirts sticking out of the toilet. Fighting back tears of frustration, I pulled my wand out and tried to gather my things, only to be met with a barrier. The girls had used an anti-magic curse; it was something I’d used with Draco numerous times (the Malfoy’s, of course, are allowed to do magic outside of school). If I wanted my things put away, I’d have to do it by hand.

The overwhelming urge to whip around and curse every single Gryffindor within my reach began to overtake my senses, but I forced my temper into control.

Don't do anything that will piss off father more than I already have, I ordered.

Miserably, I began to pick up my clothes, tossing them into my suitcase. It took me half an hour to gather my things; the girls around me laughed and continued to throw what I'd gathered back out of my suitcase.

As I reached a pile of my more personal items I’d brought with me, my heart skipped a beat. I clawed past a pair of sweats strewn over my pictures and carefully lifted out an old pink sock. Tucked inside, miraculously in one piece, was a small hand-made ceramic rose. It was one of the only things Draco had ever given me for my birthdays. He’d sculpted and painted it himself, no magic involved. It was one of the most special possessions I’d ever had, and, trying to be discrete about it, I casually tucked it tucked it into my suitcase.

When I crawled back to grab my other things, I heard the same girl from before laugh and say,

“Oh look! Malfoy has a favorite toy!”

I spun around on the spot; the girl stooped down and snatched my rose out of my bag before I could stop her. Dangling it above my head, she cackled and asked,

“What, you want this?"

"Give it here," I ordered, holding out my hand. I was shaking from anger; I wanted to curse her until she couldn't walk straight. She rolled her eyes to the top of her head, pretending to think. Finally, turning her superior gaze onto me, she smirked and said,

“No, don’t think I will.”

I dove to catch it, but it fell too fast. My rose shattered into a hundred pieces. My heart twisted as I watched the ceramic pieces skitter across the wooden floor. Laughing, the girl kicked a piece out of the way as she sauntered back to her bunk, soaking up the praises of the other girl.

Tears fell freely down my cheek as I desperately gathered the pieces in my hand, not even wincing as the ceramic sliced my palms and fingers. I held the broken slivers as I stared down at them, crying to myself. I grabbed my wand from where I had dropped it when I dove, and I began to mutter a spell that was supposed to fix it.

I had never been decent at that spell, and my frantic emotions weren't helping my concentration. I watched as a few pieces began to slide towards one another, but they didn't attach. My hands shaking and tears blurring my vision, I grabbed one of my socks and gently poured the pieces into it, tying it off and tucking it into my bag.

As I glanced up, tears still flowing down my face, I locked eyes with Hermione; she was sitting on her bed, staring over at me. Her brown eyes shone with sympathy as she watched my pathetic performance. I shut my eyes and turned away from her, getting up and crawling into my bed.

I didn’t need her pity.