Ivy stopped breathing when she saw the Great Hall. It was beautiful! Four long wooden tables were set, parallel to each other, each one with a different colored banner hanging above it. Ivy’s gaze swept across each house as she wondered which one she’d be sorted into. When she saw the Slytherin table, she shivered. That was the only house she had problems with. Ivy and the rest of the first years got into a line. Unfortunately, she was next to the boy from the boat. He smirked at her and whispered something to the two surly boys standing next to him. They howled with laughter and Ivy’s face turned red with anger and embarrassment. “Ignore them,” said a voice. Ivy turned around to find a tall, brown-haired girl. “They’re morons.” “Ummm, okay?” Ivy looked at the girl. She was really pretty, with dark green eyes that shimmered in the light. Ivy felt some butterflies in her stomach. She shook them away quickly. No one would notice her, with her plain straight black hair and boring brown eyes. “Hi!” the girl said. “I’m Morgan Fischer!” Ivy was a little taken aback by the girl’s friendliness. “I’m Ivy Taylor.” Ivy said slowly. “Cool last name!” Morgan chirped. Ivy shook her head. It was not a cool last name, not to her, anyways. It just reminded her of her parents, and what they did to get sent to the worst prison in the wizarding world. “Yeah, thanks.” Morgan however, was already talking to someone else. Ivy began to feel nervous about the sorting ceremony. She felt like everyone was watching her. During Albus Dumbledore’s speech, Ivy began to hyperventilate. What if she was put into Slytherin? What was going to happen? Ivy was so nervous that she didn’t even here when her name was called. “Huh?” she said loudly, and several people snickered. Her face turned as red as a tomato. Professor McGonagall sighed and repeated herself. “Taylor, Ivy.” Ivy quickly ran up to the sorting hat, embarrassed that she hadn’t even noticed that the sorting ceremony was almost over. Ivy looked around for Morgan. She was at the Gryffindor table, laughing with some other people who she probably just met. When the hat was placed on her head, Ivy began to feel sick. “Not Slytherin, please no!” she muttered, fidgeting. She crossed her fingers. The sorting hat was amused. “Why not? You’ll do great things there.” Ivy felt like throwing up now. “Please, put me in Hufflepuff for all I care! Just not Slytherin!” Ivy whispered, scared. She hoped to get Gryffindor, but she didn’t really care what house she was in. Just not Slytherin. The hat seemed to consider what she said. Ivy began to feel relieved. Then, without a warning, it shouted, “Slytherin!”
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