The Sorting Of Narcissa Black
**Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters presented were created and are owned by J.K. Rowling.**
Reality often was the hardest thing to realize. In truth, we knew the moment that we were born that we all would receive our Hogwarts letter when the time came. After all, someone born into such a noble house as the house of Black couldn’t be caught without a Hogwarts’ education. I was nervous though, it was finally my turn to attend the school and I had to make my family proud. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t what I wanted, nothing mattered when you were a pureblood. Especially, if you were the youngest daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black. So, for now, I would just grit my teeth and bear it. This couldn’t be that bad, could it? After all, Andromeda and Bellatrix loved the school. With a sigh, I turned and wandered down the hallway towards the apparition point. We would apparate to the train station. From there I would begin my first journey to the school that would determine the rest of my life.
“Are you nervous Cissy?” Bella asked of me.
‘Just a little Bella.” I replied to her.
What was I supposed to say? There was always a chance that the sorting hat would put one of us in a house that wasn’t Slytherin, regardless that we’d been in that same house for centuries. The subtle threat from my mother didn’t aide in letting me relax either. She told me only last night that if I didn’t end up in Slytherin to not bother returning home, ever. I had no doubt that she would have my name struck from the family tapestry and barred from ever being repeated in our family home. Not that anyone needed any additional prodding. I would do what I was supposed to, be the dutiful daughter. I couldn’t help it. I was abnormal by the standards of the Blacks.
Being born as the only child with blonde hair in a line of dark wizards and witches didn’t make my life easy. My beauty was unquestioned, by anyone. I think, on some level, it made my mother nervous knowing that her first two daughters bore the features of the Black house, but I, her youngest, did not. I had blonde hair and blue eyes. I was so very pale. Probably, a curse that would late come to haunt me. From what I was told of, there was no Veela blood in my family but there must be to account for my looks. It’s a thought I can ponder once I’m snugly within the arms of Hogwarts.
The trip to the castle isn’t all that entertaining. I know what I must do and so, I do it. I stand there in line with the other first years, watching as my two older sisters make their way into the sorting ceremony. Standing there before us was one Professor McGonagall. Not that I liked the dodgy old woman. I’d heard my sister complain about her before, the old woman who was the Head of Gryffindor House, Transfiguration Professor and the Deputy Headmistress. That alone should have been enough to scare anyone into behaving. Yet, I wasn’t intimidated. How could I be? I was a pureblood and one that was raised into thinking that we are the only ones worthy of magic. I would be the true Slytherin that I was raised to be, despite what my inner demons were screaming at me.
The trip in the boats took much longer than I thought it would and we were forced to line up in single file to enter the Great Hall. I could feel the nervous tension of the other first years around me, so many of them. including my cousin hoping they would make it through his night. Until now, there had yet to be a single Black that wasn’t cast into the Slytherin pot. There was always a chance that I would be the one that would betray the Black family name. Biting my lip, I kept my inner monologue to myself as I shuffled through the aisle with the others. Standing in front of us on the dais that lead to the head table, was a stool with a hat. I knew what it was, but I could see the looks on some of the Mudblood’s faces as they tried to understand what was going to happen.
For a brief moment, I closed my blue eyes and tried to steady my breathing. I could hear Bella’s words in the back of my mind. “Relax Cissy. It’s not that hard. You just walk up there when she calls your name, take a seat on the stool and let her place the hat on your head. Keep your thoughts neutral and don’t allow the hat the satisfaction of trying to confuse you. You know as well as I do that there’s only one other house that you could belong too, outside of Slytherin that our parents might be lenient about. If it seems to question your Slytherin abilities, try to force it at least to Ravenclaw.” It was the only conversation we had managed to have on the train before we had to separate and carry on. My name was called.
Taking a deep breath, I allowed my legs to carry me to the stool. They felt like lead and it took monumental effort to move them. Sitting gingerly on the stool I waited for the hat to be placed on my head. The conversation was going to be interesting. In truth, I wanted any house but Slytherin, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask for it. How did someone, who on some level shared the same blood superiority views as the rest of their family, ask to be put in a house that is anything but Slytherin? It would be an affront to purebloods everywhere.
“What do we have here? Another Black. So much like your sisters but a bit like your cousin too. Tough choice my dear girl, tough choice.”
I could hear the voice whispering in my head knowing at the same time it’s shouting it to the entirety of the Hogwarts populace. I didn’t want to be like my cousin Sirius. He’d been sorted into Gryffindor, an affront to the House of Black and one that his parents would probably hate him for in the end. I wouldn’t be like him. So, mentally, I allowed my thoughts to run along the lines expected of a Slytherin, whether I truly believed them or not. I could control this. I would control this.
The sorting hat bellowed for the whole hall to hear. I had done it. I had fooled it into choosing the house of least resistance. Into following in my sisters’ footsteps and saving myself the wrath of my mother. Gingerly I climbed off the stool once the hat was removed and made my way to the Slytherin table. I could see the look of pride that graced Bellatrix’s face and the slight look of concern from Andromeda’s. She knew better than anyone the war that was brewing inside of me. I had an image to keep and I would do my best to keep it.