It was dark when we reached Hogwarts that night. Everyone chattered excitedly as they exited the train. The first years were herded towards the boats, the rest of us gathering in the line of carriages that would talk us up to the school. I lagged behind to make sure that all of the students ended up where they need to be, and, once I was sure, went into one of the last carriages with a few other students who had fallen behind for various reasons. The ride was over almost before we knew it, and as a body we all climbed the entrance stairs up and into the castle.
There is no way I can describe the Great Hall at Hogwarts to those who haven't seen it. It would take one far more poetic than I to convey the sense of wonder, the majesty, the beauty of that vast hall. Even to those who attended the school for five years, who eat three meals a day in that chamber every day, it never enters the realm of the mundane, for it is ever changing. The ceiling stretched high, high above your head as you walk in, the long tables arranged in rows before the teachers table. The cold gray stone of the walls and floor were always richly lit with the golden glow of candles. On sunny days, the great glass windows shattered the light of the sun into streams in a rainbow of colors, and the dust that slightly filled the air danced in breezes and sparkled in the light. When the weather was less pleasing, the hall was always warm and welcoming, full of the smell of delicious food and the quiet murmur of conversation. Most wondrous of all was the ceiling. Painted magically across it was a glamour that projected the sky above. Storms raged, stars twinkled, clouds scuttled across the sun, snow and hail and wind and bright blue sky all graced us in turn. I wish I could spin the picture so that everyone who read this could see, but I have no talent for illusions, and hopefully my words have been adequate.
That night the hall was in rare form. The sky overhead was crystal clear, and the stars and a dazzling full moon graced us as we entered. Below, the tables were aglow with candles and laid out with place settings for all of the students. Many of the seats were already taken as I came in with the final group arriving, yet I couldn't help but notice with distress how very thin the ranks of students looked. I remember wondering if this was attributable to the muggle war. At the time, I couldn't believe that the war could have had such a profound effect on us – it wasn't as if it was our war – yet I could think of no other reason why so many students of old were no longer there. As I headed towards my seat, I tried to push such thoughts away.
I took a seat opposite Lycia Gringott, another Ravenclaw girl in my year. She was the daughter of one of the heads of the Gringott's bank at Diagon Alley. I never learned her father's exact position – indeed, I never asked – but she was destined for a bright future in the banking profession. That said, she and I didn't get along that well at times. She was temperamental and often distant, determined to do her family proud. When I say it that way, I can't escape the feeling that she sounds a great deal like me. Anyway, she and I didn't always see eye to eye, but she was a girl of strong principals, and I have always respected her for that. That day, she sat, appearing vaguely disinterested with all she belehd, casually flipping a galleon between her fingers. Her cat, Methuselah, hissed at me as I sat down, but it was an ancient, foul tempered beast, and I ignored it pointedly.
"How was your summer?" I asked, deciding that being Prefect meant that I needed to work at my level of social activeness.
"Oh?" Lycia blinked at me for a moment before shrugging. "It was what it was."
"Could have been much worse," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "Did you study, or work, or travel?"
"Worked," she replied succinctly, with a tone that effectively ended any efforts to make conversation.
Nodding to myself, I was spared trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next by the arrival of the headmaster and other teachers of the school. As Headmaster Nigellus took his chair, all of the students stood in unison as welcome, for such was the tradition then, waiting for him to speak. "In a moment, the Sorting will begin," he said without preamble. "Until then, I expect you all to be completely silent. You can be seated now." And, echoing his words, we all sat down, doing our best to keep the scraping of chairs and shuffling of robes to a minimum. All of the upper classmen knew what drastic actions the Headmaster took when students did not do precisely as he said. Strictness was a value well understood at Hogwarts in those days.
I couldn't honestly say how long the silence that followed the Headmaster's order lasted. As is so often the case with such things, at the time I could swear it was an eternity, an interminable length of time with no sound or movement but for the occasional rustle of cloth or heavy breath. In those long minutes, I reflected on my own sorting with annoyance, for the memory still rankled even after two years. My name had been called, I had stepped forward, and the hat had been set on my head. I remember the certainty I had that I would be placed in Slytherin house, so certain that it never occurred to me that the hat might say anything else. My brother, my parents, my grandparents, and even further back in my direct line, all had been of Slytherin. I was intelligent, I knew that, I was ambitious, or so I thought, and, most importantly, I couldn't even conceive of being placed anywhere else. At the time, it didn't occur to me that all that might not be enough. As it slowly dawned on me that the hat would be sorting me elsewhere, I begged, pleaded with it to place me in Slytherin, but it was not to be, for the hat was adamant. But I'm starting a business, I whined, isn't that ambition? Aren't I just like all those Slytherin's in the past? No, no, it said in my mind, and without further preamble, for all to hear it had shouted, "Ravenclaw."
I wonder now what my life would have been like had I been sorted as I wished. There's little doubt that it was much better this way, for the hat had me down solidly. I never believed all of that gibberish about superior blood. I'd seen enough of our family tree to realize that it was all nonsense, and I'd watched enough of the actual world to realize that half-bloods, even muggles, had something to contribute. Though hating non-wizards wasn't technically part of the Slytherin creed, it has become almost a requirement at least in the social sense – a Slytherin who shows compassion for anyone not of pure blood is a Slytherin who doesn't have any friends at all.
Finally, after many minutes of such thoughts, the first years shuffled into the room, the sound of their footsteps scuffling on the stone floor upsettingly loud in the silent hall. Many of the students seemed to realize how loud they were being, for they looked both mortified and terrified, trying to be quiet, realizing that it was impossible and fearing the consequences as they stepped up in neat single file to the chair on which the Sorting Hat sat.
One by one, pale and frightened, the new first years were sorted by the hat. I was very surprised to notice that not all of the new students were, in fact, first years. One young lady, named Celestine, who appeared to be older than me, was sorted into Ravenclaw house, and I resolved to ask her what was going on. That wasn't the only surprise, though. The thinned ranks of Hogwarts students at the house tables were reflected in the upsettingly small number of new students in comparison to past years. And again, I didn't know what to think, I wondered if I should be worried, and expected that I should be. I hoped greatly that my questions would be answered by Celestine, or that perhaps one of the new first years in my house, Galatea and Eileen, could explain. Only three new students for all of Ravenclaw!
As each student took their seat, they were welcomed to their new house by applause, and usually also by handshakes by those whom they took a seat near. It was all a great sign of camaraderie, for we knew that those who had been sorted into our house were likely to have many personality traits in common with us, and therefore had a decent chance of becoming our friends, or at least positive acquaintances (this is an argument I have used more than once in favor of the house system, by the by).
After the sorting had finished, the headmaster rose again, and all of the students fell silent. He ahemed, though unnecessarily, then said: "Before the commencement of the feast, I have a few announcements to make. First of all, first years are expected to know and obey all of the rules. Ignorance will not protect you from retribution, so I suggest that you familiarize yourself with our procedures as quickly as possible. All punishments are handled in the dungeon by our groundskeeper, which leads me to our second announcement. The extensive project to improve the quality of our dungeon facilities has been completed admirably. Students will now face even more unpleasant torments as a result of their misdeeds, which I hope you all will remember before performing any such actions. Punishment, once again, will be swift and harsh." Headmaster Nigellus eyed the Lunari twins, who sat innocently at the Gryffindor table, as he said this.
"Next, Quidditch try outs will be held tomorrow for all interested parties. Please speak to your respective Quidditch Captains for details on available positions." The headmaster paused meaningfully, and for a moment we all thought he was done. Thus, we were all surprised when he continued, sounding grave and smug at the same time. "We at Hogwarts have been in communication with the Ministry of Magic. As you all know, as part of the war effort, several groups of wizards have already been sent to France to assist the muggles in fighting the Germans. It is a great honor for us to announce the creation of a team of Hogwarts students to aid in these efforts. This unit, which will be called the Wizard Armed Patrol, or WAP, will be composed of many of our best and brightest students in their last year of study. Though they will still be attending classes, they will also perform special missions to aid our allies in France. These brave young men will go above and beyond what is normally asked of students at this school, and I expect them to have your full support. The students who have been selected are: Caius Serence and Guillermo Patil, of Slytherin." He paused, and tentative applause flitted amongst the students, who clearly had no idea how to react to this news. Caius and Guillermo both stood and bowed their heads towards the headmaster's table. "James Ferguson of Gryffindor." James stood also, joining the other two boys. "And lastly, our new Head Boy, Marcus Relius of Hufflepuff." Marcus stood also.
All four boys looked dead serious and I started to realize for the first time that the war wasn't just about muggles killing each other. Even now, people I knew, wizards I knew, were prepared to place themselves in mortal danger to aid in the effort. It was a horrifying thought, and part of me rebelled against it. Part of me wanted to stand up right then and there and shout for them all to sit down again, that no wizard should die for a muggle cause. At the same time, part of me felt the desperate need to learn more about this war, to learn why it might be necessary for us to be involved. It was a turning point in my life, though none of the boys were well known to me at the time. "Good luck, boys. Please be seated."
The headmaster paused again, and once more we thought surely there could be nothing else, but the worst was yet to come. "I have also been asked to announce to following news from France. Reports indicate that the four wizards have been lost in aiding the war effort: William O'Haver, Stanley Copse, Julius Black and Henry Connor. Their sacrifices have not been in vain." Horrified gasps went up from several people in the hall at the announcement. The boys who had been inducted into the Wizard Armed Patrol all looked vaguely sick, and, down the table from me, a choked sob came from one of the new students in my house, Eileen. I realized to my distress that one of those named shared her last name. The headmaster continued as if he had noticed nothing. "That is all. You may eat now." He sat back down with a dismissive wave of his hand.
At the headmasters words, the plates on the long tables filled with a delicious assortment of food, but students were too engaged in hushed conversations to notice for a moment. At the Hufflepuff table, a few of the students were congratulating Marcus Relius, and the same at the Gryffindor table, meanwhile the Slytherin's clumped together around their two new WAP members talking with low urgency. I took a little food and ate it hurriedly before approaching Eileen.
"Hello," I said in a rush, "my name is Delia Prince, and I'm the Prefect of Ravenclaw house. Are you quite well? Is there anything I can get you?"
Her hands shaking as she brushed hair from her face, Eileen sniffed, her eyes full of tears. "My brother!" she wailed, "My brother is dead!"
With a chill, I realized I didn't have the first clue what to do. What should I say? What would I want someone to say if Alasdair had died? No, it wasn't at all the same, Alasdair was a prig (gone were my childhood thoughts of my wonderful big brother) and though I wouldn't be happy if something were to happen to him, I wouldn't be broken up either. What ever to say?
"Is there anything I can do to help? We should get in touch with your parents, certainly, and…" I looked around helplessly, before coming up with an idea. I patted the crying girl on the shoulder, and, as gently as I could, said, "I will get Professor Tremens, she'll be able to help."
I left and headed quickly and with a strange feeling of determination towards the table at which all of the teachers sat. Professor Icaria Tremens, Charms and Automata master, as well as the head of Ravenclaw house, was talking animatedly to Professor Patronius, the head of Hufflepuff. Professor Tremens was easily the most gregarious person I have ever met, incongruous with her position, yet there it was. She was also brilliant. We all loved her dearly and looked up to her greatly, for she was knowledgeable and helpful, sweet and caring. I know I always felt she was something of a second mother figure, and I expect I wasn't the only person who thought of her as such.
"Oh, Delia darling, how are you, did you have a good summer?" Professor Tremens noticed me, turned my way, cut off her conversation with Professor Patronius, and greeted me all in one single smooth motion.
"Professor Tremens, hello, thank you I'm quite well, my summer was excellent. However, there is something of a problem. Eileen O'Haver is very upset. One of the names that Headmaster Nigellus said was her brother."
Suddenly turning serious, Professor Tremens nodded and started making her way towards the end of the staff table. "I'm sorry, Patronius," she said as she went, pardoning and excusing herself past the other teachers between her and the end of the table.
"Oh, quite all right, Icaria, quite all right," Patronius called after her even as I led her towards Eileen.
I hurried back to the table, Professor Tremens following closely behind and approached Eileen with a gentle smile. "I'm sorry I ran off like that," I said as comfortingly as I could manage. "This is Professor Tremens. She is the head of our house, I thought she might be able to help."
While I spoke, Professor Tremens quietly assessed the situation, looking over Miss O'Haver with an appraising eye before coming around to her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, dear," she said as she led Eileen over to a more quiet location. I didn't hear anything else she said, but I did glance over from time to time while they spoke, and Eileen seemed to steadily improve in color and bearing.
The rest of the feast passed largely uneventfully, with much small talk. About half way through Eileen returned, still upset but in control of herself. She even ate a little, which I thought must surely be a good sign. I didn't think I'd have any appetite if I was in her situation.
My first official duty as Prefect began as soon as the meal ended. As the headmaster dismissed the students to their respective dormitories, I stood up and worked to gather the new students of my house to me. "First years, please, can I have all first years and new students over here please," I tried to speak loudly, unable to escape how unnatural it felt. Some small part of my brain tried to figure out if I'd ever had to speak loudly before for any reason. "First years, please gather, thank you!" I beamed as one girl, Galatea, came up to me hesitantly, followed a moment later by Eileen and Celestine.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," I said with a great deal more confidence than I felt. "My name is Delia Prince, and I am in my third year and your Prefect. This means that if you have any questions, ask me and I'll help, if you need anything, ask me and I'll help, if you break any school rules and I catch you, you'll be in trouble." I smiled, hoping that had come off sounding like a joke.
"I am Celestine," said Celestine with a smile. She was older than me and she spoke with a crisp French accent. "I am a transfer student from Beauxbaton. Can you tell me, where would I find information about other refugees – my parents, my brother, they are still missing, I have not been able to find them."
I seemed to be having a great deal of luck finding situations I could not help with at all. "I suggest you speak to Professor Tremens," I replied with a smile, "I do not have any knowledge that would help. I'm sorry that I can't do more."
"No, no, it is alright, thank you," she said with a smile tinged with sadness and fear. I pointed towards the professor, and she moved in that direction.
"Anything else I can help you with as…" but before I could finish asking about further questions, there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and right behind me, was Professor Lestrange. I was always nervous around the Transfiguration's teacher, for she was the head of Slytherin house and she was always very strict. "Yes, professor?" I asked as innocuously as I could.
"I need to speak with you, Miss Prince," Professor Lestrange said in a clipped voice.
"Yes, yes, of course," I looked around quickly, and noticed that Lycia Gringott had not left yet. "Lycia, can you please stay with the first years while I speak with Professor Lestrange?"
Looking startled, Lycia came to stand next to me, nodding. "I suppose," she replied absently, her coin twirling between her fingers idly.
"Thank you," I smiled and turned towards Professor Lestrange, who lead me aside. "What can I help you with, Professor?"
"Miss Prince, who is the Quidditch Captain for your house?" snapped the professor without any preamble.
"Professor?"
"The Quidditch Captain. Who is in charge of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team this year?"
A vaguely unsettling feeling settled into the pit of my stomach as I sorted through the students who I had seen at the Ravenclaw table that night. Now that I considered it, I was the only member of the team who still appeared to be at the school. Not all of the students on the team had been in their last year of studies, either, so I couldn't imagine where they had gone. I combed my memories. I pictured where I had seen people sitting and tried to remember if I had seen Robert, Millicent, Henrietta, or Luke, the other team members who hadn't graduated. I could think of nothing. "Professor, I don't know. I, uh, I think that I might be the only member of the Quidditch team still at the school."
"I see," Lestrange said without the least sympathy. "Then you are Captain of the team. Tryouts are tomorrow. I suggest you find people who are interested in playing Quidditch." With a cold smile, Professor Lestrange turned and left without even saying goodbye. All I could do was stare at her in slight shock, the words 'captain' and 'Quidditch' echoing hollowly in my head.
Shaking my head in wonder at the now reinforced forcible termination of my chosen seclusion, I return to the waiting new students. Celestine had returned, and as I approached she, Eileen and Galatea were talking quietly with Lycia.
"I'm very sorry about that," I interjected into a lull in the conversation as I returned. "As I was saying, if you need anything at all, please let me know. I'd be happy to fill you in on any rules, events, or what have you. If I don't know the answer, I'll go look it up or direct you to someone who can help. Also, if any of you play Quidditch…" I looked around hopefully, but this comment elicited no particular emotional response, and I worked to contain a disappointed sigh. "...tryouts for the house team will be tomorrow afternoon. If you are interested, report to the Quidditch pitch, and we can talk about how that will work."
With that, I led the students to the Ravenclaw dormitory, where I showed them where they would be sleeping, answered the random questions that came my way, and all around probably spoke more in that one evening than I had outside of class in almost my entire time at Hogwarts.