Molly’s Sorting by nextgenoration
I was shaking.
Shaking from head to toe.
Trembling on the verge of what may have been the most significantmoment of my existence.
The Sorting.
Somehow, the thought seemed unnaturally foreign to me. Of course, being bred a Pure Blood, I knew most wittingly of it. Perhaps I was even more aware of the event than the typical witch or wizard. You see, my mother was relentless about the subject; she was endlessly speaking of what she called, “The Plan” to me. It was presumably the only topic my mother ever spoke to me about.
To be honest, Glenda Prewett really was not the “mothering” type. Her work for the Ministry was her life.
And the Ministry, always came first.
She was ambitious: with a prestigious job giving her the one-ups on society, two boys to continue the family name, a little girl to display and flaunt, and a wealthy husband with all the right connections, she certainly had the fairy tale life most women only dreamed of.
But ‘mummy dearest’ always took what she had for granted. Particularly in the form of her three children. This was something my brother’s and I had learned to accept: Glenda Prewett was never going to bake us birthday cakes, never going to bedtime stories, and never going to sing us to sleep.
Instead, she was going to devise ‘Life Plans’ for us.
Mine was simple:
Become a Ravenclaw.
Marry a Ravenclaw.
Become Minister of Magic.
And where was my say in this? No where; I wasn’t permitted one. My brothers’ plans were similar, and they had presumably ‘disgraced’ the family by being placed in Gryffindor. It was as if my mother thought the only respectable house available at Hogwarts was her own. She was always thick like that.
But my brothers weren’t the only ones to disappoint. For one thing, I had been born a girl. To my father, this was terribly unfortunate. He wanted another boy to carry on our surname and make another respectable wizard. He never paid much attention to me. I knew hardly anything of him. I had always wanted a father that would love and protect me. But then again, you can’t have everything you want.
I wasn’t selective towards a perspective house like my mother. I figured, if I was placed in there, it was for good reason. How could I argue with my fate? Impossible. And no where inside my soul was there an ounce of desire to become Minister of Magic. I wanted a family; numerous children of whom I could raise and nurture as the ideal mother. My heart laid not within wealth and reputation, but within family and the infinite power of love.
I longed for a way out, and I knew Hogwarts held that for me. This day would shape my forthcoming forever; perhaps even decide the path to my future spouse.
So I stood before the stool, chewing my lip and trembling like mad, waiting to be sorted.
There was a small tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see a gangly, long nosed, ginger haired boy smiling sheepishly at me.
“Hi, I’m Arthur,” he said with a rather goofy grin. I could almost hear my mother now, her words dripping disgust:
“Scruffy boy,” she would scoff, leading me away from the prospective child. “Tut, tut... has to be the parentage. Bad blood.”
In spite of my mother, I smiled lightly at him. I didn’t mind if he was scruffy. Scruffy was perfectly acceptable in my book.
“I’m Molly,”
There was silence as another student was summoned up to be sorted. I found myself glancing over at Arthur every few seconds. It was odd, he seemed to be doing the same. I couldn’t help notice how he seemed to be fiddling with something metal and cylindrical.
“Arthur?”
“Yes?” he said so quickly that he tried to cover up the reply with a cough. His ears turned tomato red. For some reason, it made my insides feel warm and pleasant.
“What do you have, there?”
My stomach whirled once again as the tips of his ears burned scarlet.
“It’s called, a battie.” he seemed embarrassed, but eager to talk about it all the same.
“What is it?” I asked in a low voice.
“Muggles use it for electrisee,” heresponded smartly.
My mother would have had an a heart palpitation if she new that I was talking to someone who played with muggle toys. In my minds eye, I saw her shielding me from the small boy, spitting words like, ‘foul’ and ‘treacherous’.
For a moment, I looked into his eyes. There was nothing dangerous or terrible about Arthur. I was not going to let my mother’s ignorance rub off on me.
I held out my hand. “May I have a look?”
His face lit up and he dropped the heavy object into my palm. I rolled it around wondering how something so little could have any meaningful purpose. I glanced up at Arthur who was watching me with eager eyes.
“Where did you get this?” I asked quietly.
He looked sheepishly at me. “I found it at the train station.”
I nodded and made to hand it back to him but he sopped me.
“Why don’t you have it?” he said with a small smile.
“I - I couldn’t,” I said earnestly. “It’s yours, you found it.”
“Keep it,” he said.
My small protest was immediately cut off by a sturdy voice.
“Prewett, Molly.” Hearing those words was like being hit with a vehicle a hundred times over.
I swallowed so hard that I was sure I had consumed my own tongue. I glanced over at Arthur, smiled weakly, and he nodded back encouragingly. It was a few seconds before I could remember how to properly move my feet and walk over to the sorting hat. I was moving as if I had great weights tied to my limbs.
It was with great apprehension that I took a seat on the stool of which, alone, held so much history. I wanted this to be over more than anything. I wanted to take a seat at the appropriate table and enjoy a fine meal. I wanted to go up to my dormitory and crawl into a warm, safe bed.
My life seemed to slow down as the hat was placed tenderly upon my ginger hair, and my eyes were long shut by the time it had reached it. I inhaled, waiting for something... anything....
“Hmm,” came a small voice that echoed throughout my head. “interesting... very interesting. I see many longings in your mind... love, family, happiness. And bravery, yes, plenty of that.
“Fears... you also have many fears. Though not selfish ones, but fear for family... loved ones. I know just where to put you...
“GRYFFINDOR!”
My eyelids split and I saw (and heard)the explosion of applause from the Gryffindor table. I saw my brothers, “whooping” and smiling vigorously up at me.
A distinct feeling was suddenly trickling over me: It was as though two enormous boulders had just been removed from my shoulders, leaving me free from pain.
Blushing all the same, I made my way down to Gryffindor table. Fabian and Gideon were the first to great me, disheveling my bright red hair and beaming at me with a brothers’ pride.
“Nice one, sis,” Gideon said.
“Yeah,” agreed Fabian. “Way to go! Making mummy proud one sibling at a time,” he winked.
I grinned and took a seat at the Gryffindor table. Arthur was next to be sorted. I waited anxiously to see what house my new friend would be placed in.
When the old hat yelled, “Gryffindor!”, I was the first one up to clap and cheer for him. Ears burning brightest red, he made his way over to the table and took a seat. I smiled shyly at him and he returned it with another goofy grin.
I was really beginning to like that grin.
I could do nothing but smile, for everything was going my way. I was so used to just accepting that I would never be happy, it had consumed my life. I knew I was free now - free from “The Plan” and free from Glenda Prewett.
I raised my eyes to the enchanted ceiling and gazed into the purply night time sky.
I was no longer Molly Winifred Prewett.
But Molly, just Molly.
And that was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
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