There is no doubt in anyone's mind that J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series has become (and continues to be) one of the greatest literary phenomenons of the last 20 years. Beyond the books, though, beyond the films and the merchandise, Rowling's world has managed to create a significant social impact. When it comes to devoted fan bases, the Potter-verse takes the cake. And few things illustrate this better than the question "What Hogwarts House are you in?" To an ordinary observer, it is a mundane inquiry. To the legions of fans, it is the ultimate way to assess someone's personality. It is a (mostly) foolproof method for determining who you will get along with, who to avoid, and who might be contemplating using dark magic to split their soul into pieces, thus rendering themselves immortal.

Since the beginning, I have personally identified as a Ravenclaw. As someone that devoted her academic career to the study of ancient history, I valued their commitment to learning, wit and wisdom. I cared nothing for the chivalry of Gryffindor, had no interest in the hard-working Hufflepuffs, and everyone knows that only jerks get sorted into Slytherin. I saw myself as a true Ravenclaw, an eccentric intellectual, a Luna Lovegood, if you will. My lifelong interest in the occult and divining practices were reflected in yet another member of the house, Sybill Trelawney. Yes, I was Ravenclaw, through and through. That is, until the sorting hat told me I wasn't.

Before this last month, I was unaware that there was J.K. Rowling approved, official Hogwarts sorting quiz. I, like so many before, had determined what house I was in by gleaning information from the series and then applying it to my own personality. This seemed to be the best method, as one can surely look deep within themselves and view both their strengths and weaknesses objectively, thereby placing themselves in the correct house, right? Right? Apparently, not so much.

The day that the new Pottermore Sorting Hat Quiz was released, my Facebook timeline was flooded with friends giddily sharing their results. All had been neatly sorted into the houses to which they had previously held allegiance. Why should I be any different? I jumped right in, beginning the quiz with academic fervor, becoming a Ravenclaw. I tripped through the questions, weighing each answer and option, but making sure I responded truthfully, and not the way I thought I should in order to receive my desired house. In the final step, the sorting hat himself inquired where you would like to be placed, and I, of course, chose Ravenclaw. I finished as quickly as I had started and sat back, waiting for my results.

I'm not really sure what kind of sound came out of my mouth when my house assignment popped up on the screen, but it was enough to startle the hell out of my cat. The familiar blue and bronze crest of my beloved Ravenclaw was nowhere to be found. Instead, staring back at me, almost mockingly, was that smug snake who represents all things dark in the world of magic. Slytherin? SLYTHERIN? It had to be a mistake, there was just no way. Only jerks get sorted into Slytherin. My head spun, trying to reconcile the Ravenclaw that I thought I was with my newly revealed Slytherin self.

It just didn't seem right. Once my mind had quieted a bit, and I convinced myself that I was not bound to end up like power-hungry Tom Riddle or criminally insane Bellatrix LeStrange, I began to reflect back on the quiz. What, within my answers, had led me here? I had responded to questions about magical creatures and academics that corresponded with Ravenclaw logic. I had established that thinking before acting was wise. And even though self-preservation is a core Slytherin value, that couldn't have been enough to tip the Sorting Hat in that direction, especially when I had requested that he put me in Ravenclaw.

I clicked backwards through the quiz, searching for some scrap of evidence that there had been a mix up, and that is when I saw it. The one question that had been my demise. And it was a question that I had pondered over a bit, "Which would you rather be?" The choices provided: trusted, liked, imitated, praised, envied, and feared. My initial reaction was to answer "trusted," but a voice in my head, a bluntly honest voice, told me that I knew very well that I would rather be envied above all else. Because vanity is my greatest sin, and deep down I've always known it. I reluctantly clicked on envied, and with that, my true self had been revealed.

So it had not been a mistake. One of my core personality traits put me in the house I had despised for so long. As one does with bad news, I took a while to accept it, but then I began to process my new identity. After all, not all Slytherins were pure evil. Severus Snape was arguably the greatest hero of the entire Harry Potter series, and that Narcissa Black? Tres chic and quite a loving mother. Looking back, over all seven of the books, I started to see some of myself in these characters I thought I hated. I was cunning and resourceful (although not particularly ambitious). Professor Dumbledore describes Slytherins as having a "certain disregard for the rules," and anyone who knows me well can tell you that is pretty accurate. Still, though, I couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that I had been so wrong about myself for so long. That is, until something a bit magical happened.

I had been moping around for an hour or so after my quiz, lamenting to my husband that I was now associated with the worst wizards ever, when something popped up on my Facebook feed. It was a meme, a Harry Potter meme, to be precise. Here it is-

And there it was. Me, right down to the last. I had totally pilfered baked goods for friends, and I always put mental health and happiness over work and school. As a middle school teacher, I had told my female students to never settle and never let a man define them or keep them down. And I always, always put myself first.

I felt renewed, it was all going to be okay! That short bit of writing, waxing poetic on the benefit of friendship with a Slytherin, had opened my eyes. So what if I'm not a Ravenclaw? I'm brave, but not rash, am damn good at taking care of myself, and will do absolutely anything for my true, close friends. Those are not traits to be ashamed of, and they make me who I am. I'm a Slytherin, and that is just fine with me.