As Lis identified the objects and colors in the large room, she heard the name “Elisabeth Fifer.” Somebody whispered, as her family was known for their son, who died while still a student. Lis tensed up, taking uncomfortable strides towards the stool. When McGonagal picked up the hat, Lis sat down, and the hat was placed on her head. “Ooh, a Fifer? I haven't had one of you for awhile... Potential, much of it... A burning desire to prove yourself, good, good... I know where to put you. The same house your large family has been in for over fifty years. Yes, Slytherin!” Lis, pleased with her results, hopped off and headed for the Slytherin table, where many people patted her on the back. She had a feeling she was going to like this place.
One older student, a boy in his sixth year, whispered the things she should know at the Slytherin house. She nodded intently, holding onto each word. Then out of the expected, he apologized for her brother. She looked down and nodded. He obviously knew her brother, because he had the same tint of pain in his expression.
One older student, a boy in his sixth year, whispered the things she should know at the Slytherin house. She nodded intently, holding onto each word. Then out of the expected, he apologized for her brother. She looked down and nodded. He obviously knew her brother, because he had the same tint of pain in his expression.
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