Un-Sorted

Chapter 1: The sorting hat

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Disclaimer: I do not own the harry potter series/ world but I do own the characters in this book and all the original ideas

Published: 10th of august 2019

also comment if you like the story ilysm :))

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Abby's slender, 14-year-old body sticks out like a sore thumb out among the excited 11 year-olds, all walking into the Hogwarts great hall. Abby, on the other hand, is less excited to be sorted on this tiering Monday night as she had just been introduced to this new fascinating and scary world, the wizarding world. She had to quickly pack up her things and move to England all the way from Australia, she was quite surprised how understanding her parents were and let her move. The magical headmaster had previously informed her that she was different from the rest of the witches and wizards as they usually found out they were magical before they became a teenager.

Her head swivels around her like a spinning chair looking around the room. Abby's hazel greeny-golden eyes rise up to the tall sky that filled the grand ceiling of the hall, stars twinkling in everyone's eyes a small gasp escaping her lips seeing the floating candles gracefully lighting the room. When she comes back down to life she sighs in relief as she sees everyone else in is awe just like her. Maybe I'm not that different, she thinks. She looks around the rest of the packed hall seeing big eyes all on her, most mumming to the person next to them keeping their glimmering eyes locked on her a reminder to Abby of her "Unusual position" as the headmaster had put it. Never mind I am different, she thinks disappointed. All the eyes on her make Abby sweat a little but she remains calm as she is sure it will settle down soon. She thinks back to swimming carnivals and school play performances, standing on the diving block and she could definitely handle it then but that attention was only temporary and she was in her own mind in those times, right now she was fully aware of reality staring her in the face. Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the headmaster's booming voice.

"Greetings and welcome to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry or welcome back."

In what they call a "muggle" school everyone one would boo or laugh but these kids all had the most respect for the old man speaking, apart from the odd eye on Abby. What do I have a frog on my face!? She wanted to yell but she caught herself from being too crazy.

"For those who are new, my name is Professor Dumbledore and I welcome you heartily to your new home for the time being. Before we get into our more traditional start of year routine, I would like to introduce a particular new student, Abigail Gore." He sends a sweet and comforting look in Abby's direction making everyone turn to put their beady eyes on to hers studying Abby's face in detail. She jolts her head up to all the sudden attention making her fuzzy beach curled brown hair to fly off her shoulder (she refused to wash out the reminiscence of the beach before she left Australia behind). She curls her lips half-heartily keeping her face as cold and unapproachable as she can. All the first years step away from her to make her more visible to all the interested eyes. Gee, thanks midgets. Abby thinks exclusively to herself. She felt at this point like she should have been panicking from all the new things around her but the whole situation felt like a weird dream and like when you should be stressing about a due assignment but you are too tired to give a fuck. This made her panic a little about how she wasn't panicking.

"Abby here is from a different school and will be joining our school, obviously not in the first year," he said with a smile, "but she will still be sorted to a house and new to our community. I expect you will all be very welcoming."

Abby chuckled to silently as he sort of, kind of just lied. Sure, Abby is from a different school but they probably believe he means a magical school and he defiantly just avoided stating her age and what year she is going into. Not lying but, not telling the truth either. The brown-haired girl zones out for the rest of the introduction to the new school only coming to life for the song and the occasional look at her so she can stare them down. Occasionally she received a wink from the person she was trying to stare down but eventually had to look away from most because they seem unusually persistent. She suddenly scrunches her brows closed together. Did that old hat just sing a song? They start to sort the 11 year-olds into houses which seem to be Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slither in (she was very confused with that last name). The old singing hat appeared to decide what house they are in, while they sit in front of the judgemental school on a small brown wooden chair, in the spotlight. Abby realised to herself how weird this is (and that the last house was called Slytherin) and about the uncanny resemblance this place has to a cult. Even stranger to Abby the place feels warm, like a cup of milk and cookies at a family gathering, sitting by a fireplace. The line gets shorter and shorter as she trudges along painfully wishing she was also a cringy 11-year-old for the first time in her life as if to fit in. Abby's nails dig deeper into her arm each time a new name is called and the huddle of first years shrinks. When she becomes the only one standing, her nails seem to threaten to draw blood on her smooth skin and trying not to run out of the hall is proving quite the challenge. She makes a conscious effort not to shake and keep her eye contact as natural as she can, they also really seemed like they wanted to ruin her fucking life by putting in the spotlight all the damn time. She was getting that urge that you get sometimes to do the opposite of what is normal, like when you stand on the very edge of a cliff and you suddenly want to jump off as the power that you hold in the life or death moment is so unbearably overwhelming you have to pull yourself away from the mesmerizingly terrible fall of instant death. You know? Well, she was getting that but she wanted to run onto a table and scream with all the power of her body and then hopefully spontaneously combust. She takes a deep breath keeping her eyes locked on the chair as they call out her name, ignoring the irritating eyes and whispers as best as she could. She walks out onto the stage/altar thingy (very cult-like she thinks) hearing every footstep breaking the searing silence and sits on the cold stool pulling her robes under her before she sits down to prevent her from freezing her arse off. She keeps her chin up high as she stares at the back wall concentrating on trying not to do anything weird. Oh, yea now I'm the weird one. An old but smart looking woman places the mouldy hat on her head and she hears it gasp rather loud and frantically in her ear. Shit. She finds out quickly it reads thoughts it probably heard her call it mouldy.

"No, it's not that although I am not mouldy, just textured." The hat exclaims in her ear.

"hmmm," It thinks quite loudly in her ear as if she can't hear it but then she notices it said that part out loud to the desperately, waiting for an answer gripping the edges of their seats, hall of students as if to cover suspicion. She stares up at the brim of the hat biting her lip as hard as needed to cope (quite hard) with the thoughts and silence buzzing through her head, her hands gripping hard onto the edge of the wooden seat. Her eyes are drawn to the confused deadly silent faces staring at her waiting for the hat to reveal her fate. Then the hat roared,

"NO HOUSE." 

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I hope this was good comment if you want more and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcomed  :))

(if you tell me my story sucks it doesn't help)

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