If there was one thing that Harry had learned in the last two years, it was that Darcie was an extremely proud individual.
That was one quality where she fit right into the Slytherin House.
However, where she differed from her fellow Slytherins was how she so masterfully hid her pride behind a veil of calm.
That calm wasn't a fake one, either.
It was a manifestation of her knowledge, power, and intelligence.
In the few Battle Workshops, Harry had seen it firsthand, with Darcie revealing herself to the students like she never had before, relishing in pushing them beyond their capabilities.
Part of the reason they had survived against Voldemort was the Spell-readiness that Darcie had instilled within them, Harry believed.
Of course, Hermione and Daphne must know Darcie much better than he did.
However, he was damn sure that she was not a narcissist — a personality trait she seemed to exude as she stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall, surrounded by noisy, wooden statues and shocked but silent Ilvermorny students.
What others easily mistook for narcissism was nothing but… anger.
And the only reason Harry could easily tell when Darcie was angry was that Black had suffered many, many times whenever she adopted this narcissistic attitude.
Unfortunately, others didn't know Darcie like Harry and Madam Villanelle did.
For most of them, this was their first encounter with the most popular student of a School of Magic in the entire world.
Like the British magical community and the rest of the world, the Ilvermorny students, old and young, had been hearing of Darcie's name for years now. It wasn't to the extent of worshiping her, as some Hogwarts students did; however, there still had been some great admirers of her at Ilvermorny.
Sadly, the moment it was revealed how Lord Yellow Warlock, the murderer, had been parasitizing her illegal Magical Suitcase before getting found out, all that admiration had been washed away by hatred stemming from revengeful, clouded judgment.
That wasn't just the case with Ilvermorny, either.
It was indeed more prominent at the American School of Magic; enough for them to outright object to becoming a part of the Order of Black Phoenix just because of it.
So, in a way, Harry could understand them.
He could see the silent fear creeping up on their faces.
The test of the Four — a supposedly impossible test, passed by an individual once several decades, or, once a century, perhaps — was cleared by two students of Hogwarts in one day… in a row!
Their disbelief over the situation had already led them to label him a cheater, despite the Headmistress herself not saying a word against his use of Parseltongue.
It was that silence from a witch of her reputation that had made Darcie angry, perhaps.
With her commanding the statues to pass the test, simultaneously demeaning all the Ilvermorny students, Harry wondered what kind of label they would bestow upon her.
Surprisingly, he couldn't think of anything.
And, as he found his mind blank, Harry realized why the crowd of haters was silent, too.
"Call me Cheater, if you must," Darcie said suddenly, looking around, the statues coming to a halt. "Give me the vilest label that you must have prepared for me. But I dare you… each one of you… even the esteemed Professors of Ilvermorny, including you, Headmistress Theodore Whitethorn… to pass the test of the Four, as Harry and I have done."
The pupils of the old witch, looking right at Darcie, stirred.
Her eyes rolled as she looked at each statue, the statues that had been guiding the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for centuries, the statues amid which she had also stood, letting them judge her before allotting her a House…
People… were flawed, Whitethorn realized.
The statues, which looked not at the past, present, or future, but at one's heart, could never be wrong.
And every student of Ilvermorny knew of this truth.
So, against Darcie's bold challenge, they couldn't do anything but gnash their teeth, maintaining their silence.
Headmistress Theodore Whitethorn looked beyond Darcie, her gaze matching Madam Villanelle's, who seemed to be pleading with her to do the right thing and move past the emotions that were holding her back.
Then, slowly, her gaze went even beyond Madam Villanelle, landing on the old, hunchbacked Pukwudgie.
Lord William… Whitethorn's heart shook, seeing… the Pukwudgie nodding at her. Sigh… Better late than never…
"There was… no cheating," the Headmistress said, taking a deep breath and stepping onto the circular platform. Her words echoed across the Entrance Hall, with most of the students who had shouted at Harry putting their heads down in shame. "Harry's use of Parseltongue was him playing to his abilities, using it as his innate advantage. It was nothing but the greatest display of wit, a quality that Horned Serpent looks for in its students.
"I could also see that Harry disliked using this path at first. Which means he has a gentle, loyal heart, something which the Pukwudgie House is known for. For him to be here is a testament to his adventurous spirit, making him an easy choice for the Thunderbird. And nobody can question his bravery, especially knowing that he had faced the likes of the Dark Lord thrice already."
Darcie, who had wanted the Headmistress to publicly acknowledge that, bowed deeply.
The Headmistress shook her head. "Perhaps…" she said, looking at the girl in a different light… a light in which most of the world already looked at her; a blinding, powerful radiance! "… there is some merit in Lord Black Phoenix's proposal."
Harry's entire existence lifted in exhilaration.
Madam Villanelle, who had hoped not to use her trump cards here, also sighed in relief.
Only Darcie, who was standing once again in front of the Headmistress, kept silent, assuming her usual stoic expression. "But…"
"But…" Theodore Whitethorn, smiling for the very first time, said amusedly, "… the test of the Four was but a formality, young lady. You and Harry did not come here to get recognized by the Four statues. Now, like all those who are sorted into an Ilvermorny House, you must proceed to the next stage of choosing a Wand. It's just… in your case…
"… you have only one choice — and one chance."