My dead mother Sedna was a half blood. She was a woman of little words, and many many gestures. But always it was her eyes that betrayed her emotions. Her eyes were large, round, deep brown and captivating. Her hair was just as long, thick, and silky as mine. Indeed I had inherited many of her atributes. We had the same heart shaped face, the same hands, the same build and height. So like her I was and yet she always said that I reminded her of my father. It must have been my eyes. No matter how soft I tried to make my gaze, it always appeared as hard and cold as blue ice.
I sighed as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I saw my mother looking back at me, except for my eyes. What torture it was to not have her near me. Never again would she come through my bedroom door and bring joy and hope with her again. I would never feel her lay a hand on my shoulder to comfort me anymore. Now I was alone. Yes, my father would clothe me, feed me, and keep me from the cold outside. Yet I knew he would never offer warmth, affection, or love. I was indeed alone, on the inside.
The last few weeks of the summer passed, dully, with nothing of note occuring. On the morning of September first, my father roused me by way of shouting. I had not slept very much due to nerves, and so was slow getting up. I listened to the sounds of the birds outside as I looked upon the sun for the first time in years it seemed. Gray, always it was gray here.
I was soon dashing about, trying on different clothes to see which I looked best in. I finally decided on a pair of faded jeans, a black sweater and dainty ballet flats, also black. This must be said for me, I loved Muggle clothes. They were awfully creative with their garments, and they should be, as you can only do so much with robes. I put Bones into his leash and harness (he hated his carrier) and led him downstairs.
Out into the weak morning sunlight, we went, my cat and I. My father was waiting at the end of the drive beside my trunk. He was looking flustered and as though he thought he had much better things to do today than take his daughter to London. He wore a grim expression when I reached him in any case. In the chilly morning we waited, not speaking to each other, and not looking each other's way.
Soon a large, purple, triple decker bus appeared out of the mist and was thundering toward us. I am speaking, of course, of the Knight Bus, though at the time I wasn't aware of it. A young man with pitiful acne stepped out and lugged my trunk onto the bus with great difficulty. After my father paid, I walked all the way up to the third deck and sat in the very back. The veiw might have been nice if I could catch more than a glimpse of it. The bus sped all up and down the country, weaving around cars, mailboxes, and anything else foolish enough to get in its way. Bones did not enjoy the ride very much, though I was having a blast being thrown about.
All too soon we arrived at King's Cross station and I bid Stan Shunpike farewell as we walked into the train depo. As always when I am in the presence of Muggles, I feel a distinct separation and awkwardness. I smiled at the ones who were kind enough to say "Excuse me" or "Morning". My father just ignored them.
When I passed through the barrier at platform Nine and Three-Quarters, I felt myself passing through my old life and coming into a new one. I felt the little girl who played in the clear mountain stream with her loving mother dissapear. I was only a Blakely now. Seth Blakelys' dutiful daughter. Not belonging to Sedna Skyhart anymore.
The scarlet steam engine gleamed, and I looked on at the other students. They were jubilantly meeting old friends, hugging their parents goodbye, and trying to keep their wayward pets under control. I felt separated from this group. Knowing nobody and wanting to so badly. I glanced at my father and was suprised to see my previous expression mirrored on his face. He was looking at them as an outsider; someone who didn't belong.
Bones mewed and trid to frantically reach the other cats he heard yowling loudly, confined to baskets or an owners' arms. I turned to my father, wondering if he would say goodbye. My father didn't look at me right away, seeming absorbed in his own thoughts. Then his eyes snapped to mine and he suddenly looked embarassed and uncomfortable.
"Well, " he began.
"Goodbye, father." I said in a voice that didn't belong to me.
"Yes, goodbye then." And then he actually hugged me. He let go quickly and stepped away as though I were a sick person. "Have a good term." he called as I got onto the train. I waved to show I'd heard him.
As I walked through the corridor, dragging my trunk with one hand, and carrying Bones in the other, I could'nt help but feel a little happier. For today was the first time my father had shown that he considered me a daughter and not an annoying house guest. I peeked into the windows of all the compartments, but the faces who stared back at me were not friendly. It was during the time I spent wandering the corridors that I caught my first glimpse of Harry Potter. He was sitting, bored apparently, with three other people. The first one I noticed had his behind sticking out from under the seat, looking for something. The next was blonde, and reading a magazine upside down. The thrid was red-headed and had a relatively pretty face. Harry himself was a bit on the short side, with black hair, and green eyes. Not a jaw dropping stud, but ok looking. Of course I didn't really know who he was at the time; he didn't strike me as special in any case.
I Finally found a compartment with room and also with kind faces residing in it. I sat down and wondered why these students were so short. Then I realized...they were first years. They looked intimidated by me and fell silent as I sat down. I was rather embarassed sitting with these young children, but I tried not to let that show, lest I hurt their feelings.
"You guys excited?" I asked cheerfully. They nodded, looking grateful that I wasn't mean. "I know I am." I continiued, looking out the window.
"You're American." said the one sitting nearest me icredulously.
"That's right." I said.
This spurred further questions from them, and by the early afternoon I had won their trust. We talked about what it might be like at Hogwarts, I gave them tips about spell usage and we even got around to practicing the simple spell wingardium leviosa. The first years I sat with that day were called Dorian, Ruby, Lonna, and Ike. Ruby was apropriately red headed, and had a very vibrant and animated personality. Ike had straw colored hair and was surprisingly cheerful and up-beat. Lonna, who was black, had a soft little bird twitter voice, and was exceptionally bright. I liked her the best, I must confess. Dorian was the most perplexing...he was both charming and clever, although he was distinctly cold and he reminded me of my father.
After the snack cart came by, we were all laughing, enjoying ourselves, wrapped up in our excitement. Then the compartment door slid open. When the young man entered, one name sprang to my mind, Malfoy. I don't know how I knew it, but this was surely the child of the pale man and woman at my fathers' house. We said nothing, only looked at him. The hulking, surly shadows behind him turned out to be two other boys. Boys that put Muggle army tanks in my mind. The young Malfoy glanced around and built up the first years' fear by smiling cruelly.
"Do you know who I am?" He had directed his question at Lonna, who had been stricken silent, and merely shook her head. "I am a prefect. Do you know what that means?" this time he was directing his query at Ike, who had turned a sick green sort of color and shook his head. "That means," he went on, satisfied with the reaction of his audience "That you will do what I say, or you will be very sorry..." and here the Tanks cracked their knuckles threateningly. It was all a very good act in my mind, though, when they reached for our remaining sweets (which I paid for) I felt I needed to put an end to it.
"No Malfoy, I don't think so," I said, standing up. He whirled around to face me, looking surprised that I knew his his name.
"Who are you?" he asked rudely, his cool and wicked demeanor discarded. "I've never seen you before..."
"My name is Dahlia Blakely, and you will leave them alone this instant!" I fired.
He narrowed his eyes, clearly noticing my accent. Then oddly, he didn't put me in detention, or hex me, but turned, beckoned to his Tanks, and left. I sat down, wondering why he hadn't fought back. I realized that he backed down only when he'd heard my name. Hmm. Maybe being a Blakely wasn't so bad after all...
The convorsation was subdued after that, and the first years spent more time talking amongst themselves as I was lost in thought. What is true about a person? Can a person change as the leaves change colors and still be the same person? Could I assume the role of the cold Blakely line and still be my mothers' daughter? Being a Blakely obviously commanded a lot of respect to those in power. Could I use that to my advantage? But why would I even want to? Am I really like my father? Such questions I had in my head as the day slipped into night.
I noticed that my young companions, though they were very different in personality, got on extremely well. They all laughed and talked as though they were not so different, and even Dorian seemed to enjoy their company. I smiled; for some reason this made me very happy.
We reached the station, and Bones wasn't very pleased with the loud and raucous movement as people rushed off the train. I waved goodbye to my little friends as they headed towards the call of "First years, this way please!" I had to stuff Bones into his carrier, his mewing cries of distress carrying far. I got into the first carrige that wasn't full. I didn't speak to the other students in the carrige and they didn't speak to me. I found out later that they were Hufflepuff fourth years, though that is of little consequence.
I left my baggage in the carrige as I saw the other students doing, and followed the throng, not knowing where to go. Hogwarts was really an amazing place in comparison to my old school. My old school was a large mansion that was bigger on the inside than the outside would suggest. It was an all girls school, in other words, boring. The teachers were also female, and had very little patience for anything so time wasting as fun. I could just tell by looking at the castle with its' huge towers and turrets, that Hogwarts was a place of mystery and adventure.
Into the Great Hall we swept, an ocean of black-clad youth. I saw the four long tables and remembered that I belonged to one of them. But which one? I scanned them, looking for some sign of recognition. I looked down at my own uniform and saw the shield of Ravenclaw upon the left side of my chest. I looked for the table bearing this same distinguishing mark, and lo! It was the one I stood right in front of. I sat down, to many odd stares. I was about sick of this by far, and so without the slightest hesitation I launched into my story. After the initial shock wore off, my fellow Ravenclaws were gracious and curious about my circumstances. Funnily enough I had chosen a seat close to Miss Cho Chang, and soon we found out we had quite a bit in common. Lovers of Quidditch, Potions, Exploding snap, Cats, and we even looked something alike with our long black hair. Cho was to be my friend from now on.
Soon the first years trooped into the hall, looking nervous beyond belief. I spotted my four in a tight group and waved enthusiastically. This earned me a few questioning looks from my older companions, but I didn't care as I gave my four the thumbs up. They all smiled meekly back at me, obviously eaten up by nerves. Suddenly I felt someone's eyes on me and I turned my head instinctively in their direction. I saw the young Malfoy's grey eyes for a split second before they skipped away. I frowned and turned my head towards the front again.
The first years had lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.
The first years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. My four were stony faced as they looked at the hat. I had forewarned them about the battered hat, and so I suppose they were not as nervous as their fellows. A strange silence had crept into the hall. Everyones' eyes were upon the hat. Suddenly---
In times of old when I was new And Hogwarts barely started
The founders of our noble school Thought never to be parted:
United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning,
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.
'Together we will build and teach!'
The four good friends decided
And never did they dream that they
Might some day be divided,
For were there such friends anywhere
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?
So how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there and so can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.
Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those
Whose ancestry is purest.'
Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose
Intelligence is surest.'
Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those
With brave deeds to their name,'
Said Hufflepuff, I'll teach the lot,
And treat them just the same.'
These differences caused little strife
When first they came to light,
For each of the four founders had
A house in which they might
Take only those they wanted, so,
For instance, Slytherin
Took only pure blood wizards
Of great cunning, just like him,
And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw
While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,
And taught them all she knew,
Thus the houses and their founders
Retained friendships firm and true.
So Hogwarts worked in harmony
For several happy years,
But then discord crept among us
Feeding on our faults and fears.
The houses that, like pillars four,
Had once held up our school,
Now turned upon each other and,
Divided, sought to rule.
And for a while it seemed the school
Must meet an early end,
What with duelling and with jighting
And the clash of friend on friend
And at last there came a morning
When old Slytherin departed
And though the fighting then died out
He left us quite downhearted.
And never since the founders four
Were whittled down to three
Have the houses been united
As they once were meant to be.
And now the Sorting Hat is here
And you all know the score:
I sort you into houses
Because that is what I'm for,
But this year I'll go further,
Listen closely to my song:
Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though / must fulfil my duty
And must quarter every year
Still I wonder whether Sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you…
Let the Sorting now begin.
While the rest of my classmates seemed confused and startled, I really didn't mind at the time. I was just glad the thing hadn't sung when it was in my house. The first of my four to be sorted was,
"Bellany, Ruby."
Moments later the hat cried,
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The table farthest left exploded into applause, with loud yells and whoops included. The next was,
"Istari, Dorian."
Quiet Dorian, who looked the calmest of my four, made his way gracefully to the stool.
"SLYTHERIN!"
As the table on the far right cheered and clapped this time, Dorian threw a sad, wistful look at Ruby. She, in turn, smiled encouragingly at him. Seeing this little exchange made my mouth twitch...ah, puppy love. The next of my four to approach the stool was,
"Peterson, Ike."
Ike marched up to the stool, with a strange expression of his face somewhere between nausea and excitement.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
A small bomb seemed to have exploded at the table next to us. I resisted the temptation to cover my ears.
I waited and watched as the line of first years thinned, until only three were standing. My Lonna, with her twittery birds voice, looked ever more fearful as the boy standing next to her became a Gryffindor. She seemed to be holding her breath when the sharp looking woman finally called her name.
"Vanyar, Lonna."
The hat sat there longer then it had with my other three. Finally, it shouted,
"RAVENCLAW!"
No, it can't be, I thought as my table broke into applause. The entirety of my four had been sorted into different houses. I finally came out of my surprise long enough to clap for Lonna as she sat with the other new students at the far end of the table. The last girl was then sorted and the strawberry blonde, frizzy haired girl next to me said,
"Thank God, I'm starving."
I was of course, hungry too, but the thrill of this first experience kept my complaints at bay. Dumbledore stood. I was used to his appearence, but the fact that he had actually spoken to me directly and had been inside my drawing room made him seem all the more strange.
"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"
There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice. My hunger came rushing back to me and hit me full on, so that I felt I had been punched in my stomach. I dove into the food with customary American indecency. I was delighted by the British food, especially the savory pies.
"In America," I said factually to my fellows, "we only have sweet pies. Apple, Pecan, Lemon Meringue and so fourth. The only pie even remotely like this is Chicken Pot pie. And to be honest, it is really very disgusting."
And so the conversation revolved around the food differences of our nations. I was the only authority on the subject of American food and they hung on my every word. Secretly, this thrilled me. I took their obvious intrest in stride though, for I was never one to be prideful, or arrogant.
As the feasting died down and the talking wound up, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster.
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start of term notices," said Dumbledore. "First years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too."
I listened attentively to the start of term notices, Cho offering whispered tidbits from time to time. I was startled to see that the Toady woman had become a professor here. Yet another person who had been in my father's house.
Dumbledore continued,
"Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the--"
He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, ('Hem, hem,') and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
The Toady womans' girly high pitched voice was so awful it made me feel like I had a bad taste in my mouth. My fellow Ravenclaws seemed to feel the same way. So naturally, we started talking about other things.
"Dahlia, are you going to try out for our team?" Cho asked. "We need a new beater, since Rhys left...last...year." She finished the sentance slowly. Suddenly, her eyes turned bleak and cold as she stared off into space. She didn't even seem to hear me when I said,
"Y'know, that doesn't sound too bad."
She blinked, and gave me what she must have thought was a warm smile. Her other friends exchanged signifigant looks. I knew not why last year seemed to disturb Cho so much, so I simply gave back to her an understanding smile. She noticed my understanding and this seemed to upset her even more, so that she struck up convorsation with forced enthusiasm again.
As I lay on my bed with it's blue silk hangings, staring above me, I couldn't help but feel rather at home. I had only been here a few hours and yet I felt this was more home than my fathers' house. I couldn't explain it. Then I realized that I didn't want to know why. I smiled as I rolled onto my side and sleep crept over me.