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Old 01-02-2018, 03:33 PM   #10 (permalink)
Angie


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Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: Themyscira
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Hogwarts RPG Name:
Nerissa M. Tate
Sixth Year

Ministry RPG Name:
Brighton H. Brown
Mysteries

x8
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Wowza!

She had to watch most of her peers walk up to the stool; such were the wonders--or tragedies--of her last name starting with a T. And the longer she waited, the longer Nerissa felt as though her organs were about to disappear. It was--unpleasant, to put it mildly. Enough that by the time her name was called, it took her almost ten seconds and some hushed whispers for her to realize it was her turn.

Her walk, posture and expression carried all of the confidence she did not feel. In truth, it was possible she was close to vomiting--or worse, bursting into tears in the middle of the enormous hall that belonged more in the storybooks Flavia had read to her than reality itself. An upset stomach and fainting could be explained why about--some sort of illness. Crying? Absolutely not. And so, Nerissa was overwhelmed, horribly so, and she was felt faint and pale and out of control. But she went to the old stool anyway, barely registering the person holding that raggedy hat, and--sat.

It all happened very quickly.

Nerissa argued for Gryffindor. Because that was her papa's house. Because--well, that was precisely when she ran out of arguments in favor, really. Or maybe not. Gold and red were lovely colours? Regal and vibrant and look at me, I am here sort of colours. Precisely everything she was not, and would, presumably, feel uncomfortably being. She pursed her lips, felt something akin to a chuckle in her head, and shuddered, visibly. What about her cousin? Third cousin, sure, but it was a cousin anyway. Geneva, yes. She was a Gryffindor, too. Did it matter she didn't know her? That papa had made little to no effort to spend time with his family? More chuckling, and Nerissa, forgetting herself, stuck her nose in the air. The hat almost slipped off right there, and she reached up, alarmed, to adjust it.

One word: "No."

"Alright."

She could live with not being a Gryffindor. She would have to muster the courage and willingness to write to papa and give him the news, but she'd do it, anyway. Mama, from her part, would not care because mama hadn't been anything at all. Only half of her DNA was tied to one house in particular, and Nerissa was privately thankful ("Not so privately, child.") that it was her papa's. Disappointing papa was not a problem; she'd likely disappointed him from birth by virtue of being a girl. He was used to it. Mama, on the other hand, well--she was excellent at guilt trips. And so disliked when Nerissa was anything less than perfect. Which, as it happened, Nerissa often was.

It was a common occurrence that Hogwarts would liberate her from, at the very least. She should be thankful--no, she was thankful for it. There was guilt--yes, she was guilty. Felt guilty. Eleven years couldn't very well be shrugged away in mere minutes--hours? she wiggled in her seat, sharpened her gaze into focus and found herself staring loftily at the remaining unsorted students--, but. But. There was excitement, and wonder and--want. Of her own; a lot of it. A need to do--something. For her and about her. Me, me, me. You. We. Me. She shuddered, again, sweat pooling on her clavicles and above her upper lip. Uncouth. She wrung her hands, turned them over and looked down at her palms.

"I have made my decision."

Half-hardheartedly, she said. "Nicholas is--he is a Hufflepuff." Her fingers wrinkled. "and Ravenclaw-- I enjoy reading very much. And I like it when people read me things."

The hat ignored her, and she swallowed. "I--mama says I look good in green." There was no actual response to that, for her. But there was the suggestion of it, in her head--like something was gently prodding her to elaborate. "And I think--I think she's right." She frowned, grasping for the words to explain her own mind, unused to it as she was. "But I also think--silver is pretty when--" there was a pause, and she balled her hands into fists, felt her nails dig into her palms. "--when polished well."

"Then we have an agreement, you and I." And then, for the entire hall to hear, "SLYTHERIN!"

In something close to a daze, Nerissa bounced up from the stool and stumbled to the Slytherin table.
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