Chapter four
A Sort of Sorting
The greatest a possession a man can possess is a good name, and in this regard, I must admit, I am thoroughly blessed. The great and noble name of 'Zed' has traversed the annals of time again and again and has withstood the test of decay while permanently carving those three wondrous letters forever into the blocks of history. The exploits of my ancestors are sung about and their accomplishments barely believed. It seemed as though their pinnacle had been reached.
And then there was...me.
Silvanus Zed: The culmination and apex of one of the greatest wizarding families since time immemorial, (with Dumbledore and Potter probably coming in a close second). Yes, I'm quite sure the name 'Silvanus' shall always be associated with the name 'Zed', raising our family stature from merely great to (dare I say it?) legen(wait for it)dary.
(Actually, the way I received the name 'Silvanus' makes quite an interesting story. You see, I was named after my great- Ah...yes, perhaps this is not the time.)
However, one of the (few) downsides to bearing the name 'Zed', aside from the constant staring, relentless paparazzi and never-ending autograph requests, is that in any alphabetical list or role call, one can always be assured of coming up dead last.
This situation was no different.
As the hat concluded its (slightly insulting) poem a round-faced wizard with numerous scars on his face came and collected it and then unfurled a roll of parchment that extended far beyond his ankles. (It was either written in triplicate or in font size eighty-six because there simply weren't that many new students.) "Anderson, Cynthia!" he called out. "Please step forward and put on the hat."
A small, shaking girl with long dark hair answered to the name and slowly lowered the hat over her head. Being the polite head-wear it is, the hat must have invited her to have a seat because she then scrambled on to the stool and squeezed the cushion until her nails turned white, waiting and waiting-
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat announced and the table second from the left nearly gave me a heart attack as they exploded in cheers and applause. (That's "cheers". That is to say, they exploded in cheers, not chairs. They were standing when this happened. Hope we cleared that up.) Smiling broadly, Cynthia Anderson removed the hat and ran to her new house.
"BARRINSKY, BORIS!"
A rather sturdy lad with overly wide shoulders (and in desperate need of a shave) stepped forward.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted and this time the table on the right welcomed a new member.
(Seeing as my name will not be announced for a bit, I've taken the liberty of condensing and abridging the next few unimportant names. You're welcome.")
"BOOT, ANGELINE!" - "RAVENCLAW!"
"CARTY, CUTHBERT!" - "GRYFFINDOR!"
"DEVON, DAMON!" - "SLYTHERIN!
"DOE, JOHN!" - "HUFFLEPUFF!"
"DOE, JANE!" - "HUFFLEPUFF!"
"EDINSON, EVELYN!" - "GRYFFINDOR!"
"FLANNEL, FLAVIOUS! - "SLYTHERIN!"
"GRETSIN, GAYLE!" - "RAVENCLAW!"
"MALFOY, SCORPIUS!" - "SLYTHERIN"
"MUREHEAD, AGNES!" - "HUFFLEPUFF!"
"NELSON, KENT!" - "GRYFFINDOR!"
"OZZ, DOROTHY!" - "GRYFFINDOR!"
"RATSIN, RICARDO!" - "SLYTHERIN!"
"STARKER, PETER!" - "RAVENCLAW!"
"SMYTH, ALLISON!" - "SYTHERIN!"
"WEASLEY, ROSE!" - "GRYFFINDOR!"
"WHYN, EDWARD!" - "HUFFLEPUFF!"
And then it seemed as though a wave passed through the great hall. The air became still and time expanded and slowed as a climax was reached. The professor parted his lips and uttered that immortal name: "Zed, Silvanus!"
With a straight back and calm demeanor, I answered the summons. The legendary hat was before me and in a moment it had fallen over my eyes and all was obscured save me and my destiny.
Hmmm...What have we here? A soft voice was whispering thoughtfully in my ears. Yes...yessss, you think a lot of yourself, don't you? Well, there is definitely something here. Cunning. A great deal of cunning, though you give your brains a bit too much credit. Ah, and what is this? Your name is-...My, that's an odd name. Seems here you were named after your great...Oh dear me, that is very interesting.
But back to business. Ooh, I do detect some narcissism but a lot of loyalty on the other hand. You are quite paradoxical, you are. And what's this? Looks like cowardice, but it might be prudence. I can't really say, but I suppose after the...interesting challenges of this year we shall find out, shan't we?
What do you mean?
Never you mind. Now, where to put you? Where to put you? I daresay, your ego won't survive a placement in Hufflepuff but I think Ravenclaw may be reaching a bit. Then again, Gryffindors tend not to value prudence too much, which places you in
SLYTHERIN!
The cheers that greeted my ears upon removing the hat where thunderous. (By far, greater than anyone previously (though Rose later tried to convince me that everyone was actually applauding the end of the sorting and the commencement of dinner. *Sigh* It is very sad how small a jealous person can act.))
I replaced the hat on the stool while the round-faced professor rolled up the parchment list. He seemed a nice enough fellow, if a bit accident prone (he dropped the list four times) but it seemed to me he almost glared at me when I was sorted into Slytherin. Then again, my fatigue may have been playing tricks on my eyes. Yes, that's it. Let's go with that.
I made my way to the Slytherin table and found a seat between pointy-faced Allison Smyth and a burly third-year whose name I didn't know.
I looked over at the Gryffindor table and saw Rose and James in earnest conversation, their brows furrowed and expressions serious. And with a slight pang of worry I remembered that Albus was still nowhere in sight. Over at the Hufflepuff table I saw Agnes was already engaged in friendly conversation with Jane Doe, with no apparent apprehension in her demeanor. This struck me as odd at first, as I would have pegged her as the type to be more concerned for others.
But then I saw her shoot several furtive glances over her shoulder at the sorting hat and I realized what she already had concluded: The Hat was still out. It had not been put away. There was still one more sorting left. But where was Albus?
The congratulations and excited conversations suddenly ceased and I looked around for the source of the abrupt cessation. And there it was. Professor McGonagall Had risen from her seat, ready to address the assembly.
"In years past," she began. "It was the custom of our late headmaster to say a few words before dinner in order to inform the students that he would not be saying a few words before dinner. I, personally, do not hold of this practice and will, therefore, not be saying a few words before dinner. Therefore, you may all tuck in."
In the midst of mulling over these confusing 'few words' I was startled by the sudden apparition of the largest assortment of food. The older students seemed to take this sudden appearance in stride and immediately began ladling copious portions onto their plates.
"Excellent!" I heard Damon Devon exclaim. "Fried cabbage over baked Gooeyduck! My favorite!" I made a mental note to choose a bed as far away from his as possible. (Incidentally, he went through the rest of his years at Hogwarts with the nickname, "Windy".)
"Ewww!" The pointy nose of Allison Smyth curled over the green fumes of a rather odious looking dish. "What on earth is this rubbish supposed to be? It smells something awful!"
"It is an elfin delicacy called 'Birpsalot'." a cold condescending voice answered Allison's rhetorical question. "And if you don't fancy it, put it down and don't eat."
I turned to see it was the voice of the prefect Ursula Qualm whose icy blue eyes were currently boring into a sheepish looking Allison. (Her mood had obviously not improved since her encounter with Albus and Rose.) She held her gaze on Allison a few moments before turning back to converse with her fellow seventh-year.
"Well, what are they at serving elf food anyway?" I heard Allison mutter, (though it was low enough not to be picked up by Ursula).
At that point I decided that conversation makes for a poor dinner and decided to throw myself at the food with a gusto.
It really was marvelous.
In that one sitting I consumed a plate of veal with mashed potatoes, two legs of turkey, Boston cream pie, sweet potato pie, Shepard's pie, eel pie (tastes like spaghetti), poached horn toads (those can get stuck in your teeth), stuffed cabbage, pea soup, poached snail eggs (tastes like chicken), some more soup, a few frankfurter, some baked chicken (tasted like snail eggs), and-
Oh dear. I am making myself rather hungry. And, goodness! It's already dark out. I think I will lay my pen down to till tomorrow. In the meantime, I believe a midnight snack is in order. Yes, quite right. I wonder if the missus has left over any of that scrumptious pudding...
