Cynthia Rushton's Sorting Ceremony

Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat atop Cynthia's head, which fell below her eyes and obscured the view of the Great Hall and her watchful audience. There was no hesitation in a response, as the hat spoke in a voice only she could hear.

'Ah. Quite the curious one, aren't you?' it said, amused and attentive. 'Resilient, too. There's ambition, no doubt... but where to put you?'

A brief pause.

'Yes. I see, it's all here, in your head...' the hat continued. 'You would do well in Ravenclaw, there's no doubt about that.'

The next pause was longer. Or at least, it felt longer? Was it seconds or minutes or hours? Cynthia couldn't tell, but it was different somehow and the hat gave no indication as to why. It sounded confident with the first house mentioned, yet the money dragged on.

'Then again, perhaps Slytherin?' it finally said, likely startling Cynthia with its abruptness. 'There's... yes, you may belong in Slytherin.'

Even when a choice was presented to Cynthia, the hat may need some convincing as there was clearly something else it was seeing that she could not. Either house would suit her well, but the hat was meticulous. It needed to be sure.

'Do the ends justify the means?' the hat wondered, to help along the journey to an answer. 'Do you wish to be known for your achievements... or for your reputation?'

And thus the quiet that followed, even though she had no way of being sure, was there to allow Cynthia a chance to react and consider the two houses -- one of which she belonged to, but which would it be? 

Cynthia hadn't answered either of the questions posed by the hat, not really. And yet that in itself was a form of answer, to the magical hat who'd been doing this job for over a thousand years. Oh yes, the more Cynthia thought about it, the more certain the hat was of where exactly she belonged. 

'Well, if you're sure...'

I hadn't been convinced at first, swayed more towards one than the other, as everything about her seemed to suit it... but then it wind changed course, and her true colours showed themselves. There was no doubt, and no hesitation. Only amusement, and a clear certainty of exactly where Cynthia belonged -- as the hat's voice rose for the entire hall to hear.