Why do they look... Like that? PV TB Closed

• • •

"My sorting?" She blinked. To her, her sorting was the best option for her, though she had mixed feelings about the whole thing. "To be honest, I'm really happy with the house I got. I like most of my housemates, and the common room is always so fun to hang out in. We've got a big fireplace, so it's nice and warm in there all the time too- which is a good thing, 'cause since we're up in a tower and all that, it gets chilly at night." She looked up towards the castle where the Gryffindor tower was located.

"I feel kind of weird about it, though." The girl shrugged her shoulders a little. "Mom and dad always wanted me to be in their houses, you know? Especially my mom. She wanted me to be in Slytherin so badly, but I don't really think I belonged there all that much, anyway. And my dad wanted me to be in Hufflepuff, which is cool and all. Hufflepuffs are nice! It wouldn't have felt the same as Gryffindor. I'm kind of just hoping that when I tell them, they're not disappointed I didn't get into their houses or something like that." She poked at the water with a stick that laid next to her. "Geez, that'd really suck."

Thomas listened intently to what Sylvie had to say, his expression even throughout. For a few seconds he digested Sylvie’s words, trying to come up with the ideal response. Emotional concerns and family issues were never his forte in particular, and despite the fact that he had known Sylvie for quite a while, he didn’t honestly know much about her in that context. Describing emotions was hard as is, now try being eleven years old descended from a wizard family in secret and being unable to tell your close friends. It was a lot, he could only really imagine.

”For what it’s worth, I think Gryffindor’s a great fit for you. Like, spot on.” Initially, in fact, Thomas had been a bit disappointed in himself for being the only one of the motley crew to not end up there. However, he quickly got over that sentiment, because after all, ”The Sorting Hat’s not supposed to get that stuff wrong.”

”I don’t think they’ll be disappointed.” He paused, reconsidering her statement. He didn’t actually know how wizard culture was structured around this sort of thing, and to say that would probably be disingenuous. Thomas offered Sylvie his best imitation of a comforting smile, but he looked mildly uncomfortable with the display of emotion, though it was clear he was trying. ”And even if they are. Ultimately, it’s not like there’s much to be done about it. Wear the red robes with pride, everyone else seems to. Even if your parents are a little disappointed about it, they’ll have to get over it eventually. You’re in, as far as I can tell, a great house with some great people. Might as well enjoy it, right?”

Unsure if that attempt at sentimentality was going to land, or if it’d be a swing and a miss, Tommy caught himself fidgeting a bit as he spoke. Upon taking note of the nervous habit (the classic leg jiggle), he consciously stopped it, though it took every ounce of willpower he had.

Sylvie quietly listened to Thomas speak as she poked around the muddy, gravely bank with her stick. On most accounts, he correct, no surprise there. Thomas had a knack for seeing points with the sense Sylvie’s mind tended to diverge from. Despite the discomfort that she recognised he felt towards her rare, unusual display of emotional vulnerability, she sympathized with his attempt at giving her reassuring food for thought. After all, it was true. The Sorting Hat was never wrong, and it wasn't as if she could turn back the time and appoint herself a different house. Even if she could, none of the others would become her as fully as the bold house of Gryffindor did. She sighed, tossing the stick aside. "Yeah, I'm kind of worrying for nothing, huh?"

"Nothin' I can do about it now. At least lions are cool and stuff... And mom and dad are just gonna have to deal with it or something. I mean- What are they gonna do? Send a complaint?" She laughed, albeit sort of nervously, desperately trying to clear the air of her eleven year old nervous turmoil. Besides! At least she had one of her best friends as a roommate. "Tally seems to like Gryffindor too. At least I think she does. I couldn't see her being in any other house."

Quickly, almost too quickly, Thomas replied, "Gryffindor's a great fit for Tally, I agree. Both of you guys, actually."

It was hard to hide his own disappointment in his sorting, though he managed well enough. The only of the trio to not make it into Gryffindor, Tommy tried his best to remain fairly optimistic about his future at Hogwarts. However, his generally perceptive nature kept him from just ignoring his surroundings, and as he considered further, he found his train of thought switching tracks to one perhaps less cheery. Knowing (and constantly over-analyzing) the differences between himself and his two friends, it was clear as day why they were sorted as they were. As Thomas was cautious by nature, Sylvie and Tally threw caution to the wind and took the bull by the horns. While he often stopped to gather more information before coming to a conclusion, the two held steadfast to their convictions with seemingly no doubts.

Where Tally and Sylvie were brave... Well, Tommy bitterly noted that he seemed to be the coward of the bunch.

As hard as Thomas tried to abstain from jealousy, the topic of sorting brought up emotions he didn't quite understand; emotions he resented. It left a sour, sinking feeling in his gut, somewhere stuck between contempt and unease. It seemed that his two best friends had all the virtues he strove for, all the qualities he admired, all the traits his mother often praised his father for. A shame, really, that the stupid hat had to center its judgment on his shortcomings.

His countenance revealed none of the sentiments bouncing around in his head of course—his resting facial expression was far from particularly joyous anyhow. Thomas abruptly sat up, peering into the water idly. Uncomfortable silence lingered in the air for a few moments, almost signalling that something may have been amiss, before he spoke up again with a resigned tone, "The Hat's never wrong."

•••

The silence in the air didn't rest easily with her. No moments of silence did, but there was an off feeling about this one that Sylvie couldn't really put her finger on. Tommy's shift in tone didn't really help with that either. 

Whereas Sylvie had essentially a foolhardy nature of going about life and all of its twists and turns, Thomas preferred to take a moment to step back and think about things that someone such as herself wouldn’t even consider. To Sylvie, it was more than obvious why Thomas got Ravenclaw, with his ability to think around a situation as if it were nothing.

"Well, I think the Hat did great with you." She remarked matter-of-factly. "I mean, it's practically textbook. You're witty, and you could probably come up with a quick fix to any problem if you wanted to. I think that's exactly what the founder would look for in a student, right? She was all about the wise and creative." Sylvie recounted the little bit she'd known about the founders of Hogwarts.
"I could totally see you inventing something cool. I read in History just yesterday that some of the wizarding world's greatest inventors are Ravenclaws. Liiike Ignatia Wildsmith. She invented Floo-Powder." She crossed her legs as paused, before admitting, "I dunno, I just think Ravenclaw's cool. I know I don't really fit, but I wouldn't have minded being sorted there at all."

As they always say, in one ear, out the other. While Thomas listened intently to what Sylvie said, he couldn't help but discount just about every word of it. Occasionally considering protesting midway through as she spoke, he simply kept his mouth shut and nodded along. Rationally, he was aware that no house was inferior to another. However, as most situations go, his brain wasn't exactly in charge of how he was feeling, and the consolation Sylvie offered just made him feel worse. Naturally, he felt bad for feeling bad (considering his friend's efforts to lighten his spirits), which fed into the cycle. The boy wasn't self aware or emotionally intelligent enough to recognize that, however, so instead Thomas ruminated a bit.

"Oh, for sure. It's definitely cool to see all the people who're in my house, especially the older students. Some of them are pretty eccentric, but I can tell they've all got the whole savant thing going on in their head." An easy deflection, sure, but Thomas wasn't in the mood to come up with something more convincing. He resisted the urge to go on and on about the merits of Gryffindor (their bravery, their honor, the glory heroes of old brought upon their house), primarily because he thought it'd seem kind of pathetic.

"I think it's kinda weird to sort people at age eleven. Like, we all think we know who we are, but what if some crazy stuff happens between now and our seventh year? When magic is real, pretty much anything is possible, y'know." He considered the people he'd met thus far, noting that just about all of them fit the characteristics of their house. Still, Thomas couldn't help but doubt that people kept in those molds forever.

•••

Sylvie tugged her scarf further around her neck as a cold breeze blew right through her. She quietly listened to what Thomas had to say, thinking on every other word. It was odd for them to get so deep into conversation like this- As deep into conversation as two eleven year olds could be. Usually their conversations were comprised of lighthearted banter above most else, and this was certainly out of Sylvie's comfort zone. A person such a Thomas was much better during talks like this, and normally, she would sit them out, or simply listen and nod, not knowing what to say. Nevertheless, she did her best to follow along and contribute to it. There were only two people talking after all.

She couldn't help but disagree with his way of thinking on this matter, however. In some aspects of it at least. Yes, she agreed that people changed. They were eleven, after all. Seventeen was a long ways away, and one could only presume that during that time, certain evens would change a person in many ways. There was a possibility that, someday, they wouldn't fit the typical mold of their house anymore. However, "The sorting age is whatever. Houses don't really matter all that much anyway though, right?" A sudden contradiction to her earlier woes about Gryffindor and parental approval. "Think about it," She started. "It's like, fun and all that to talk about what house you're in, what houses your family was in. "Gryffindor for life," blah blah. But once you're outta school, what's it really matter?" Her shoulders shrugged. "If I moved to Africa right now. Would me saying "I'm a Gryffindor" mean anything in a place where the house of Gryffindor doesn't even exist in their school? I dunno."

Thomas paused to consider, mulling over what Sylvie said, before coming to a similar conclusion. "You're right. I mean, the house system is fairly arbitrary. All it really determines is who your roommates are, what color you wear, and what Quidditch team you root for if you're excited about that stuff." Noting that that school of thought seemed to make him feel a bit better, his expression seemingly lifted. Ultimately, what did it matter what house you were in once you graduated? Sure, house pride was great for your time at school, but once you're graduated, all that really matters is your OWL and NEWT assessments.

Part of him still harbored some insecurity. It was inevitable that a simple change in tact wouldn't totally eliminate it (especially considering its roots were not in his Hogwarts experience, but elsewhere). Still, that was pondering for another time, and Thomas decided to try and direct the conversation elsewhere for the time being.

"Some of the people here are really nice." Unspoken, of course, was the notion that some of the people were far from it. A generally analytical person by nature, Thomas was naturally skeptical of some of the people he'd met thus far. Especially those yellow-robed individuals who always seemed too... Kind. Clearly there was something greater going on behind the scenes. Probably not actually, but his overactive imagination often considered it a possibility. "I met a guy who helped me carry my books for like... No reason. Plus the girl we met in the library, Rosie. She just offered to help out because she could. It's nice to see, I guess"