Chapter 5: Not Pitiful at All

Lys drew a sharp breath, covering her swollen, bright red cheeks as she hurried toward the high stool, stumbling once along the way.

As the hat obscured her vision, she heard someone from her former spot say, "I bet they're definitely a Gryffindor."

"Ah, let me see... Interesting, indifferent to suffering - Gryffindor perhaps? Oh no, not quite right, missing something... Then, self-preservation? Pure-blood absolutely, yes..."

"Wow! You can talk? Oh my goodness, can you come home with me?" Lys's exclamation echoed through the entire hall.

This sparked a wave of good-natured laughter from below.

Professor McGonagall nearby didn't quite approve, but held her tongue under Headmaster Dumbledore's knowing glance.

"Oh, believe me, I would truly love to venture out with you young wizards, to expand my antiquated literary knowledge and compose better opening songs in the future, but-"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Slytherin's first new student of the year seemed unwelcome in the house - no unified, enthusiastic applause, just scattered, perfunctory clapping from the far end.

But Lys didn't mind, still pondering the Sorting Hat's words: "Thank you for the invitation, child."

She sat at the far end of the silver-and-green snake-bannered table, waving hello to everyone who looked her way.

Though they all eventually turned away in disgust.

"Good heavens, look at that red-headed pauper, just like a Weasley. Narcissa, have the Blacks become too poor to afford new uniforms? Ha!"

The mockery reached Lys's ears clearly. She looked at the girl being taunted - she was so beautiful, and positively radiant.

Was this one of the Blacks that Father said not to provoke unless she ranked in the top three of her year?

"A truly prosperous family always has more relatives than one can remember, doesn't it? Unlike the Carrows, who can be counted on one hand?" retorted a dark-haired girl beside Narcissa.

Lys desperately wanted to wring out her water-logged robes during this brief settling-in period - they were cold and heavy, dragging her down.

But she dared not, as the brief exchange between the two senior girls had drawn half the Slytherin table's attention to her.

Her tooth ached more intensely, her arms and legs hurt too. Lys pretended to find the floor fascinating, offering enthusiastic applause when another new wizard was sorted into Slytherin.

Thank goodness he drew the attention away.

But soon, all eyes returned to their table - triggered by a boy named Sirius Black being sorted into Gryffindor.

He even shot a defiant look toward the Slytherin table.

The rough-voiced Carrow girl resumed her taunting, "Ah, look here! After the pauper, the Blacks produce a Gryffindor! Have you completely merged with the Weasleys? Lucius! Look at your fiancée - how can she deserve to sit beside you?!"

This Sirius Black must be important, Lys thought, as even the radiant Narcissa stopped glowing with shock.

But the Sorting couldn't stop for a few children's squabbles. Slytherin's table welcomed new blood.

Since houses were only announced after names were called, Lys couldn't remember most names, but one black-haired, black-eyed boy stood out - Snape.

Severus Snape.

Lys thought about how she wore men's shirts and trousers while he wore women's - they were quite alike, hehe. She'd also seen him on the train while looking for her vanished compartment-mate.

He'd been standing with a beautiful red-haired girl, arguing with the Gryffindor Black, surrounded by several boys mocking him. He'd looked rather pitiful then.

Oh right, where was that red-haired girl? Surely she'd be in Slytherin too, wasn't she Snape's good friend?

"Lily Evans" - that was her!

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Oh oh oh, Lys would bet that bespectacled boy who'd been mocking Snape earlier was now grinning at him triumphantly. Wow, how could Snape not be angry?

What could Snape do? Of course he was angry, but he could hardly rush over to Gryffindor and snatch Lily back. He could only direct his fury at the small witch beside him who kept staring.

"If you could keep your Black Lake-soaked cloak away from me, I might show some gratitude - provided you stop staring at me."

Snape noticed the person staring at him wore equally old clothes, even more worn than his own, and swallowed some of his intended harshness.

Lys gulped.

So fierce, not pitiful at all.