Chapter Sixteen - Kate's Memory.

September 1st, 1969.

7 years ago.

The site of the Great Hall in wondrous splendor for the start of term feast makes the rest of the pack of first years either gasp in admiration, twitch nervously as they are reminded of the sorting, or start gabbling on about everything they know concerning the majestic sitting. I do none of these things, however, and instead lift my pointed nose in the air and begin to sniff. My parents told me that they do wonderful food at Hogwarts and I look forward to the feast, itching to get over with the sorting and eat just as much as the other students in the room. But I can't smell anything at the moment. Shame.

I feel admittedly nervous, however, when we group near to where a small stool upon which the sorting hat sits. I know exactly what I have to say to the hat, but I can't help but fear it won't listen, or dread the look on the faces of my two older siblings, both residing in Ravenclaw, when I choose an entirely different house against the tradition of my family.

The wizard who escorted us from the entrance hall (I think his name was Dumbledork or something), walks forward with a scroll and stands by the stool before calling: ''Ardel, Rickon!''

There's stirring among the crowd and a boy with dark hair cut in a Paul McCartney style emerges, walking steadily towards the stool. I stare at him as the hat is placed on his head and a few seconds later, the hat shouts ''GRYFFINDOR'' and off he skips towards the cheering Red and Gold table. Then Dumbledork calls another name and once more a first-year comes forward and is sorted. I loose interest by the time the third person's called up, however, and instead, standing at the edge of the crowd, turn to survey the hall full of people. I'm more on the lookout for food than my siblings, ignoring Hugh and Amy's waves from the Ravenclaw table and trying to figure out how the food gets to the dishes placed along the house tables. Are there house-elf waiters, or something? Or is it a help-yourself buffet? Or perhaps we get to just say what we want to eat and the food just appears? My imagination goes a little wild as I run through the many possible ways of how the food will reach the awaiting plates, each getting more ludicrous by the second.

''Fields, Katherine.'' I don't hear my name as it's called, only snapping into gear when someone beside me pokes me in the back. I look up, bewildered, then realise what's going on. I'm not used to answering by 'Katherine' - it sounds far too severe. Everyone just calls me Kate.

Heading for the stool, I tell this to Dumbedork before I sit down. ''By the way - my name is Kate. No one calls me Katherine.'' The thought of trying to convince the sorting hat to place me in the house of my desire is certainly more frightening than telling the deputy headmaster what you like to be called, and I have no problem with informing him of my correct title.

''Very well, Miss Fields.'' His blue eyes twinkle with amusement at my bold statement before he gestures to the stool and I take a seat. A second later, the hat's placed on my head and a sharp voice begins to speak in my head.

''Aha! A Fields! Well, I know exactly where to put you...''

''No!'' I think suddenly, stopping the hat just in time. ''No! Please don't put me in Ravenclaw.''

''Ooh, do we have a McGonagall here, then? You certainly have her spirit.'' The hat questions. It's strange, but even though it's speaking in my head, I can hear the smile in it's voice. Well, at least it has a sense of humour.

''My Aunt said I can choose which house I want to be in.'' I say resolutely. ''She also said that you would insult me with your untailored wit.''

The hat laughs in my head and I can see I've appealed to it's humour. It's mad - I'm talking to a hat - but I've had weirder conversations in my past.

''Oh yes, I insult everyone. I have no manners.'' It answers humorously. ''And now I must tell you, girl - you would do wonderfully in Ravenclaw. You have wit, you have intelligence - and you would be with your siblings.''

''That's the point.'' I fire back. I'm glad this conversation's going on in my mind. ''I don't want to be with my family. They annoy me - they're too nice, too successful.. I don't fit in in my own family and I need to be somewhere I can get away from them. I want to make my own way. Like my Aunt.''

''Well, you're willful, aren't you? If it's not Ravenclaw, then, where is it? I have a mind to put you in Gryffindor, though you're not a Hufflepuff, that's for certain.'' The hat answers, making me sigh with relief then wear an expression of horror.

''No, no - please not Gryffindor!'' I'm literally shouting in my head. I cannot end up in Gryffindor - I'm not brave, I'm not chivalrous, and, with the exception of my Aunt, I've hated every Gryffindor I've ever met.

''Not a fan of the Lions, then? I thought you wished to follow your Aunt's footsteps?'' Replies the hat, laughing at my horror. Much as I dislike his insults, I actually like this hat, and find myself naming him, as I do everything.

''No, Herbert - I want to follow my own path.'' I stress to the newly-christened sorting hat. This conversation has lasted too long and I feel my stomach rumbling and all eyes are upon me.

''Ah, so you've named me?''

''Just sort me, please.'' I snap, then add hurriedly. ''But not into Ravenclaw. Or Gryffindor. Or Hufflepuff.''

''Well, if you don't want any of those, then you leave me no choice.'' I realise just as he announces my house like a character in a pantomime and adrenaline rushes through me. ''SLYTHERIN!''

In the whirl of it all, I feel Dumbledork lift the hat off my head and see that the table of Green and Silver are clapping robotically, all of them wearing bored expressions. What have I done? I'm in Slytherin? I never wanted this. I get up, looking over at my elder siblings at the Ravenclaw table. Both are pale and shocked and look at me with such hurtful disbelief that I turn my gaze away a second later. Walking as robotically as my new housemates clapped, I make my way towards the Slytherin table. The thing is, I can't work out whether I'm walking to my doom, or my home.