Wandering Thoughts Closed

Heather sat by the fountain, humming to herself quietly. She was just learning to knit. Her Squib aunt had sent her instructions and a ball of yarn, even though Heather would rather be doing something else, such as reading or fertilizing the trees in the school courtyard- they looked as though they needed it. Heather knew that she had to knit, though, because her aunt would be so disappointed if she had discarded the items that her Squib aunt had thought Heather so loved. But Heather's mind was really not on knitting. Not at all. She was letting her thoughts wander, far and wide.
Heather thought of the book she was reading. The Hogwarts Games, it was called. The book was great, she thought to herself, but not as great as the Muggle book. And the arena was the Hogwarts castle? That was just unrealistic.
Then, her thoughts got dragged into a different area again. Heather heard a snippet of a conversation, "... can't believe I got sorted into Hufflepuff... really wanted Gryffindor... well, can't change my House... what a pity...". She herself started to think of her House. Heather had accepted her fate at Ravenclaw nonchalantly- after all, didn't the Sorting Hat know best? But after hearing that conversation, Heather realized that before she got Sorted, she had expected anything BUT Ravenclaw. Gryffindor, because she was always wandering into the old mines in town with a cardboard sword. Hufflepuff, because how many times had her Muggle friend Archer asked for help for whatever, and how many times had Heather agreed? Slytherin, because she could always find a way to put the blame on someone else whenever one of her pranks had set off the entire town. But not Ravenclaw. The only reason Heather could think of that could've put her in Ravenclaw was weak- she liked the color blue, and she liked reading. That was it.
Why was Heather sorted into Ravenclaw?
Heather looked back down at her knitting. There was a beautiful green scarf.