This short story is based on a prompt about a young character who attends Hogwarts. The scene takes place during the Sorting ceremony.

Everyone around her was excited about the upcoming event. Every 11-year-old wanted to know in which house they'd belong for the rest of their school years. Everyone but Alana.

A girl with a freckled face and emerald eyes asked her something, but young Alana was lost in her thoughts. What if something disastrous would happen? What if the sorting hat would call her a Slytherin? Then, everyone would wonder why she belonged there, and they would soon reveal her past.

She didn't want to be determined by her father's actions or her family's history. She wanted to be Alana, a bright witch who loved magic from the first time she made a flower bloom.

The tall, middle-aged teacher drove them through the four large tables and in front of a chair. The teachers and the students were looking at them, waiting to see the additions of the four houses.

Several minutes passed, and many students were sorted into their houses, when a firm voice said, "Alana Keith."

She set her head high and looked at the old, tattered hat.

"I'm not my father," she thought and, with steady steps, walked and sat on the chair. The teacher put the hat on her fierce, red hair and everyone fell silent.

"Hmm..." the hat said. "I sense great power in you. If you learn how to tame it, you can be the greatest witch, but if you let your impulses overwhelm you, you might lose yourself."

"Please, put me anywhere but Slytherin. I can be a Hufflepuff. I've worked in the garden with my mother every single summer, and I love helping others. Or... or Ravenclaw. Yes, I can be a Ravenclaw. I love books, and I think I'm smart enough because I remember all kinds of flowers."

"You can do great things in Slytherin as well. Or Gryffindor."

She shook her head in sadness. "No, I'm not brave enough. I cannot face my fears."

She felt as if millions of seconds had passed, but in reality, it was only a moment after she had sat. Her conversation with the sorting hat was kept from everyone in the room, and only the two of them could listen to each other's thoughts. She looked at the confident eyes of the Slytherin students. They were gleaming in pride. She had refused to turn into her father, for he was a coward who had committed atrocious crimes. How could she be any different if she didn't face her demons?

"Choose, little girl. You can be anything you want, but you want to be great. Should I put you in the curious Ravenclaws, the hard-working Hufflepuffs, the brave Gryffindors, or the cunning and ambitious Slytherins?"

"I'm afraid." Her lips trembled, and she rubbed her hands on her robe.

"It's not our blood that defines us, but our choices. Choose. I can't be here all night."

The hat was becoming impatient. Memories of her father coming with bloody clothes during the night, her parents fighting, and the wizards coming to arrest him came into her mind.

A few days after her father's arrest and imprisonment in Azkaban, her aunt, her father's older sister, came to take her because she believed that Alana's mother wasn't capable of raising the kid.

Alana was never aggressive, but that day she had let her emotions cloud her judgment, and she sent her aunt flying toward a tree in the garden.

"This child belongs to my family," her aunt had shouted when her mother stood protectively in front of her daughter.

"Alana can decide with whom she wants to stay."

She remembered the dark red hair that fell loosely on her mother's shoulders and the protective grip on her arm, and at that moment, she realized that she wanted to be strong and determined like her mother. Her father was a strong-willed man whose former relationships and family bonds proved stronger than his love for his wife and child.

"When family calls, I go," he had tried to reason with his wife.

Alana escaped from her mother's grip and stood between the two women.

"I'll stay with my mother. Your family can forget that Alana Keith belongs to them. I belong to myself."

Her hazel eyes were glistering in determination. Her hands were turned into fists, ready to fight, even if the ten-year old-girl had barely started using her powers.

She had never seen her aunt again, but professor Dumbledore has appeared instead. The headmaster of Hogwarts had decided that it was time for young Alana to learn the responsibility that her power held. He and her mother taught her how to tame her anger and hold her power when she was angry.

Minutes before the train for the school departed, and under the curious looks of some parents, her mother had said, "You are strong, my love. Power comes fierce out of your soul, but it's your heart the one that carries the greatest power."

"You are right, mum. No one can change my heart."

Alana had finally made up her mind. She didn't know what the future would bring, but she knew that she would be prepared to face it. "Alright, I've chosen. I want to be a Slytherin. Let them be afraid. I can face my demons, and if any of them accuses me of my father's actions, then they shall face my truth."

"Very well," the hat said and ended their private conversation.

Alana stared at the huge, candle-lit room, and for the first time in years, she was more confident than ever.

She wouldn't let the blood define her but her heart. And her heart was ready to fight every darkness that would follow her. Alana Keith was determined to be the daughter her mother deserved and the witch her father's family could never surpass.

A tiny smile formed on her lips as the hat shouted "Slytherin" and the members of her new house cheered. She turned around and looked at the familiar, grey-haired headmaster that had many times visited her house after her father's arrest.

His blue eyes had a hint of playfulness, but the rest of his face was unreadable.

Was he worried that the darkness would consume her? Or did he know all along what her choice would be?

The hat's words echoed in her mind.

"No, I won't lose myself. I will discover every part of my soul, and everyone will remember the name 'Alana Keith'."