Sorting Ceremony

She tried to set eyes on Mortimer, but was too distracted by the steps up the stage and the hundreds of eyes that felt like pinpricks. "Arawn Blackwood, madman, criminal, death eater, orphan". The whispers crowded her ears, she blocked them out, face a stone mask of indifference.
She settled gracefully on the short wooden stool, sized for first-years, and the smell of a hundred children's sweaty heads attacked her senses as the smooth old leather hat settled lightly on her head, as if to not put a hair out of place.
Hmmm, you're a tricky one, plenty sharp, ambitious too,
"SLYTHERIN!" A sigh of relief, I'm safe.
Was he proud of me? Is he happy, too? She caught his eye when she sat at her table. His cold gaze slid over her without a pause and she sighed inaudibly, even for this...
Category:Scenes