Anthea Lestrange is so unlike the rest of her family - a kind Hufflepuff and diligent student of Muggle Studies - and is constantly trying to prove that she is her own person.
{Philosopher's Stone - Deathly Hallows}
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It was a cloudless September night, echoed in the vaulting ceiling that glistened with stars above, as Professor McGonagall swept into the Great Hall, a group of eleven year olds following excitedly in her wake.
Among the first years, Anthea Lestrange gazed around in awe as they passed between the four wooden tables, her jaw hung open as if on hinges, a smile curling onto her lips.
A girl with mousey brown hair walked beside her, turning to grin widely at Anthea as they strode beneath the floating candles, which bathed the hall in a warm glow like the fires that roared in hung braziers.
McGonagall neared the end of the tables, climbing a few steps to stand above the students. "Can you wait along here, please? When I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted into your houses."
From a small, rickety stool in front of her, she lifted an old hat, wrinkled through the passage of time, and unrolled her parchment list. "Tamsin Applebee."
The brunette girl who had walked beside Anthea climbed the steps, slowly seating herself on the chair. McGonagall lowered the hat onto the girl's head.
"Ah," it mused. "Start of a new year, eh? Well, better be... HUFFLEPUFF!"
The second table on the right clapped loudly as Tamsin smiled widely and joined their number, her tie magically changing to yellow and black.
Waiting for silence, McGonagall called out the next name on the list. "Matilda Avery."
"SLYTHERIN!"
The green and silver table on the right clapped this time as a smiling, redheaded Matilda joined them.
McGonagall waited patiently until the applause for Roger Davies going to Ravenclaw had died down before she consulted the list again, the frayed hat still in hand. "Cedric Diggory."
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat declared almost instantly, the brown haired boy excitedly sitting at their table.
Every name that was sorted was met with thundering applause from their new house, each table rising in turn when a new first year happily joined their ranks.
Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan both went to Gryffindor, both proudly sporting crimson and gold ties as they sat.
"Anthea Lestrange." McGonagall called.
Whispers started to fly around the hall as the dark-haired girl stepped out from the rest of the first years, wishing the ground would swallow her whole as she sat on the stool.
It felt like a lifetime before McGonagall laid the Sorting Hat onto her head, the patched brim slipping down over her eyes, casting her into darkness.
Screwing her eyes shut behind the fabric, Anthea could almost imagine the horror she would feel at being sorted into Slytherin like everyone else from her family, and where her cousin would surely be sorted in two years time.
