I felt sick.
The boat ride up was horrible. The storm had nearly shaken our little rowboats to pieces. What were they thinking putting kids in those little buckets?
The Great Hall was warmer, though. Candles floated in midair over four long, well varnished tables. The ceiling reflected the lightning and ominous thunderheads outside. Even though Mother had told me what it was like, I'd never expected to see something so magical on the first day. Even cold, wet, and sullen as I was, I couldn't prevent the small "wow" from leaving my blue lips.
Don't get me wrong. I knew it was going to be impressive, but I didn't really expect it all, having never really seen magic before. You see, my father was a non-magic, a Muggle, if you will. He never allowed magic in our house. "The Devil's work" he always called it. He nearly flipped his lid when the letter came. My mother convinced him to let me go, in the end, though, so here I am.
As I stood drinking in the wonder of the Hall, silence fell like a blanket upon it. Then a man's voice rang out, singing. I couldn't really hear what he was singing. I stood on tiptoes, but still couldn't see over the heads of my fellow first-years. I was very short for my age, standing only about 124 cm(4'2"). I crept out of line to see around my peers, scanning the front of the Hall for the source of the voice. It was perhaps a whole minute before I realized with a start that the voice was not issuing from a man, as one would expect, but from a hat- a very old, tattered, faded Wizard's hat, singing through the tear in its brim like a crooked, lipless mouth from the rickety stool it stood on.
Then the hat had finished, and everyone clapped. I hadn't heard the song, but it must have been good. A woman strode up to the stool, unfurling a scroll as she went. She cleared her throat and peered at the parchment through her spectacles. She had brown hair pulled up into a tight, high bun on her head that looked quite uncomfortable. I never could figure out how to put up my straight black hair like that; it seemed to have a mind of its own sometimes. Mother always said it was the magic in me.
The woman began to read off names in alphabetical order, last names first. The A's seemed to last forever. I heard the two kids in front of me whispering about gryphons and something "slithering". With an irrational pang of fear, I wondered if maybe we would have to battle dangerous monsters for practice. Then the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" at the top of its lungs, and a boy with thick, wavy, dark hair jumped off of the stool and ran victoriously to a table of cheering students, high-fiving them as he sat down. It was then that I remembered my mother telling me about the houses of Hogwarts: Ravenclaw, for the quick-witted and intelligent; Hufflepuff, for the gentle and kindhearted; Gryffindor, for the brave and strong; and Slytherin, for the cunning and ambitious. Mother had told me about the infamous Dark Lord who had come from Slytherin, and many other twisted minds that had been bred there. She told me how they all looked down on people like me, who weren't pure-blooded Wizards.
The two kids were still talking in front of me. One was a girl a little taller than me. She had beautiful dark red hair, and when she turned to look at the boy she was talking to, I saw her bright green eyes. By contrast to her colorful demeanor, the boy she talked to was very pale, had stringy, lackluster, dirty black hair than hung in curtains around his sallow cheeks. His robes were gray and tattered, and he was so thin, he might not have eaten a square meal in his life. He was taller than the redhead and me, and he looked awkward.
"Evans, Lily!" The woman called, and the redhead strode confidently up to the stool. The hat was on her head all of three seconds before it cried out "GRYFFINDOR!" The girl jumped from the stool. She shrugged at the pallid boy, who looked utterly crestfallen. The Gryffindors greeted her with open arms, as the occupants of the nearest table booed. I looked around and saw the green and silver hangings of Slytherin. Boy, they looked like a mean bunch. I was so deafened by the booing and cheering that I almost missed my name.
"Fawkes, Sylistia!"
I almost tripped over my slightly overlong robes as I rushed to be Sorted. I nervously climbed up onto the stool like a little kid, with both hands. My feet hung at least a foot over the floor. I saw every eye on me just before the hat dropped over my blue eyes, obscuring my vision. I felt the blood rush to my face. Then all was silent. I heard muttering, but not from the Hall. It was in my head. I could actually feel the hat's presence, probing every nook of my mind, every aspect of my being. Then, quite suddenly, the voice screamed "SLYTHERIN!" at the top of its lungs. Then the hat was off, the Slytherins were cheering, and the Gryffindors were booing. I was paralyzed. Slytherin? What would Mother say?
I walk toward the green and silver banners as if in a dream. I sat down, numb and oblivious to the Slytherins shaking my hands, patting my back, and congratulating me. I was still in shock when I felt something brush my arm. The pale boy was squeezing in between me and a blonde upperclassman, who introduced himself as Lucius, a Prefect.
After the Sorting, the table miraculously filled with food of it's own accord. Impressed though I was, I could hardly eat half my bowl of soup. I felt sick, as I always did when I was stressed. My stomach churned with the prospects of my mother finding out that I was in the evil Slytherin House. The pale boy seemed to be a bit under the weather, too. He hardly touched his food, though perhaps it was because he wasn't used to so much food in one sitting.
After pudding, we were led down, down, into the deepest part of the castle by Lucius. He led us down so deep, my ears popped. It was colder and darker here, and each faltering torch cast more frightening shadows than the next. Then, quite suddenly, Lucius stopped in the middle of the corridor and said "Serpensortia!" clearly and loudly to the wall. At first I thought perhaps he was mad, but then there was a rumbling sound, and the wall slid open to reveal a long, low room with a huge fireplace and green lanterns lined along the gray, cold walls. There was a sense of being underwater, the way the sickly green light danced its shadows on the walls.
I trudged off to bed without a second glance, following two other first-year girls into our dormitory. I flopped down on the bed my luggage was next to without even unpacking or changing out of my damp clothes. I was asleep within seconds. I dreamt of snakes and faceless Dark Lords, of booing lions and disappointed mothers. I dreamt of that strange boy sitting next to me at supper, maybe striking up a conversation next time, instead of being shy.
So now I was Sorted. The kids in this house were creepy, to say the least. Ironic, then, that the creepiest of them all was the one I couldn't stop thinking about.