The Blinding and Sorting

I was blind. That was the first thing I realized. The second thing I realized was that my eyeballs were trying to force themselves out of their socket. But a mixture of my hands and the conjunctivitis kept them in place. My eyes vibrated, feeling as if they were at war with my skull.

Students talked all around me, a gruff voice continued to call for first years. Would no one call for help? I couldn't see, and I couldn't get up. All my efforts were focused onto maintaining control of my eyes.

"Hagrid! Hagrid! Someone's hurt over here," a boy shouted over the crowd.

"What's that? Who's hurt?"

It was the same gruff voice calling for first years. I felt footsteps vibrate the ground as they trudged up to me.

"You alright? Take your hands away."

But I couldn't. Giant fingers peeled away my fingers.

"Oh!" said the gruff voice. "Don't take your hands away."

"What is it Raven? What happened." Alice was beside me now.

"Didn't you see it?" I'm pretty sure that voice belonged to Shelby. "He got hit by those boys dueling."

"Rowan!" The gruff voice called.

A small pop sounded. "What is it Hagrid?"

"Take this boy to the Hospital Wing now," Hagrid—the gruff voiced man—said. "Been jinxed in the eyes, and somethings gone wrong."

I felt a smooth hand take my wrist, and then I felt as though I was being pushed through an incredibly tight tube. I was Apparating, well side-along Apparating. What a wonderful feeling.

We landed, and I heard the whipping of a wand through the air. Simultaneously, I was raised into the air, floating alongside 'Rowan,' whoever that was.

"Minerva," said a female voice, presumably belonging to Rowan. I felt something brush past me.

Another pop and the Scottish accent of the Headmistress could be heard next to me.

"What is Rowan? I'm preparing—oh! Oh no." I heard the whoosh of a wand again, and my eyes relaxed. Then a pause. I could feel myself moving quickly in midair, as the two women walked beside me. "Is that you, Mr. Husher?"

"You know this boy, Headmistress?"

"Call me Minerva, Rowan. I am no longer your teacher. And yes, we've met. Oh come now, let me do it, it'll be quicker and you are needed to supervise the children getting from the carriages to the school."

"Right you are Head—Minerva," Rowan said.

I could hear her footsteps turning backwards. There was a rush of air around me, a bony hand grasping my shoulder, and I could hear the echoing footsteps of another person around me. We were inside then. But how? No one can Apparate inside the school grounds.

"Poppy!" the command issued from McGonagall's mouth.

A small shriek. "Minerva you—is that a student? Already?"

I felt myself lowered onto a bed.

"He's been hit in the eyes with some type of hex. It looks like the conjunctivitis curse mingled with something else. His eyes were jumping about under all that goop."

I could feel that goop. At first it had been soft and soggy, but soon hardened under the heat of the magic. It was now as solid as wood and had glued my eyes shut.

"I can clear all that away," said Poppy. "But his eyes—"

"I have stabilized them, though, I don't know what they will look like—"

I felt a sense of pressure lifting as the goop vanished from my eyes. I dared not take my hands away. What if they tried to fly out again?

"Mr. Husher," said a different voice—it must have been Poppy's — "kindly remove your hands. You'll be alright."

I slid my hands down towards my cheeks, keeping them close in case I needed to catch an eyeball.

"Open your eyes," said Poppy.

I took several quick breaths and then opened my eyes. I closed them just as quick for the pain of opening them had been enormous. Streaks of a warm white light ran across my vision in all directions, and at all depths. My head immediately began to throb, and the only escape was by the closing of my lids, where—unlike sunlight—the light completely vanished.

"Oh my," said the Headmistress. "Can you—"

"Not immediately, I'll need to keep him overnight Minerva," Poppy said.

"Is there anything I can do? If not Poppy, I'll need to head down to the sorting, they really can't—"

"Hang on!" I said. "I'm not missing the sorting." I sat up, my hands back over my eyes.

"I'm afraid Mr. Husher—" A hand pushed on my chest, but I pushed it away.

"I can't miss my own sorting," I said. "Plus, my sister is being sorted. I can't miss that."

"I assure you Mr. Husher, the Headmistress will see to it that you are sorted. You can't even see—"

"I don't have to see to put on a hat," I retorted. "My sister will help me walk. I'll be fine, just don't let me miss my sorting."

"Mr. Husher—"

"Poppy, is there any more damage be done?" said McGonagall.

"I don't think so, but all the same I'd like to keep—"

"I will send him up immediately to you after the feast." There was no retort to this, but I imagined some eye contact was being made that I couldn't see. "Can we at least bandage him before we go?" No sooner did I feel a soft strap tighten around the back of my head, and a plush padded eye mask settle on the bridge of my nose. "Thank you, Poppy. Mr. Husher, please take my hand. I will lead you down to the Great Hall."

I hopped off the bed, hand outstretched. Headmistress McGonagall took hold and whisked me—to what I assumed was—out the door. We turned left, then right, then left, then two more lefts, but I couldn't keep track long enough. Soon I could hear the echoes of voices, which turned to murmurs, which turned to shouts.

"Raven!" I heard over the noise. There was no mistaking it, that was Alice's voice.

"Ms. Husher come here," McGonagall ordered. I heard Alice's footsteps approach us. "Your brother has been injured but is alright. You are to escort him during the sorting ceremony, bring him up when you are to be sorted. And do not allow anyone to look underneath his mask. Do you hear me."

"Yes Headmistresses," Alice responded.

I could picture the way she looked when taking orders from McGonagall. Standing straight, tall, neck up, hands by her side, eyes big.

McGonagall's hand lifted from my arm, while Alice's took my other hand. I heard large doors open with a crack, and then close again. Alice walked me back to—at least I assume back to—the gaggle of first-years waiting to go into the Great Hall.

After the doors closed, with McGonagall on the other side, I heard the drawl of a boy with a London accent. The boy was whispering, but it carried through the room, which had become much quieter with the Headmistress—and my—arrival. "Look how stupid that kid looks in that mask. Wonder what happened?"

I turned my face in the direction of the voice.

"He heard me." There was much laughter.

"Ignore him," said a girl's voice. It wasn't Alice's. "You don't look stupid."

"Is that his girlfriend? She could use a pick-me up, eh?" More laughter.

It must have been Shelby who had spoken then. Who else looked sick?

"You know," I said, "I often pity those who can't master how to whisper properly. Isn't the whole idea so that other people don't hear you?"

I don't know if it was a good insult, or if the boy just didn't feel like making a comeback, but he fell silent after it.

A high-pitched voice came from where the great doors were. The man talking couldn't have been very tall, for the voice seemed to come from eye level. Being just eleven at the time, this meant the man would probably be no taller than four and a half feet tall.

"Right, first year's welcome to Hogwarts." His voice was squeaky, as if his vocal chords needed oiling. "I am Deputy Headmaster Filius Flitwick, and your Charms teacher. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. However, before this we will be sorting each of you into your houses. The sorting is a simple matter—you won't have to battle trolls or enchant cutlery—you'll be putting on the sorting hat. The hat is sentient, so don't be surprised when you hear it talking to you.

"There are four houses of Hogwarts, for those who don't know. They are named for the schools' founders, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. No booing now!" For some of the students had started to boo at the mention of Slytherin. "Slytherin house has produced some of the greatest wizards we know, and the most Ministers of Magic. And you never know. Those booing might end up in that mighty house.

"Each house has produced great wizards and witches. While at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family and your team. Victories in the classroom, or the quidditch pitch and in between will gain your house points. Rule-breaking, misbehavior, detentions will lose points for your house. We tally all these points at the end of the year, and whichever house has the most, wins the house cup. Happy Hufflepuffs will be proud to tell you they won last years. The house cup is the highest honor we can bestow at the school, and I daresay I hope each of you will be a great credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"Each house has its own common room, dormitories; all your lessons will take place with those in your house and year. I hope to see you in some of my house, Ravenclaw. Now, the sorting ceremony will take place in just a minute, so smarten yourselves up, and let's go.

There were only seconds after Professor Flitwick finished before the great doors opened again. Alice held my hand tight and walked me slowly forward. I could hear others moving around us. I never my first hour of Hogwarts being blind. I wanted to see the ceiling, enchanted to look like the night sky, the floating candles, the house tables decorated in house colors.

Alice stopped me walking. The Great Hall was silent. I knew somewhere in front of me—hopefully Alice had not placed me looking the wrong direction—was an old hat on stool. I'd seen drawings of the hat, but now I longed to see it in person.

The hat began to sing.

"I'm a hat that can think

And you'd better know

That all other hats

While pretty, are slow

Created by the Hogwarts Four

I find myself at ease

When children put me on

For I find all their thoughts, indeed

My sole purpose is to sort

To find where you belong

Which house is best for you

I will know, quicker than this song

Will it be brave Gryffindor?

A house for those filled with daring

Bravery, Courage, and Nerve

Are what make Gryffindor's so caring

Or perhaps you'll be in Hufflepuff

Not for those who are dolts or dumb

Loyalty, dedication, and patience

Those aren't qualities of the ho-hum!

But then there is lovely Ravenclaw

Whose wisdom knows no bounds

Intelligence, Wit, and Creativity

Are this house's playground

And then there is great Slytherin

Unfairly treated and hated

For those Cunning and resourceful

Greatness is awaited.

Do not fear the house I pick

For there you will gain true insight

You'll find that education both social and bookish

Will be bountiful by the common room firelight

Do not forget your classes though

While friends and fun await

Your common room is for more than games

Study hard with your classmates

For you see, perched atop great Gryffindor

I was just a lowly hat

But now I'm filled with brains

And there's nothing greater than that.

The song was rather more preachy than I thought it would be. Not so subtle reminders that Slytheins are fine people, that common rooms are for study, and not to get distracted. This was not the type of songs I had hoped for. Quite a disappointment.

Quick enough Professor Flitwick was calling out the first name. "Jacob Abney." He became a Ravenclaw. There was much clapping, and someone magicked a loud screeching noise to come out of their wand.

"Why is it an Eagle, instead of a Raven?" asked a girl not far from me and Alice.

I recalled the image in Hogwarts: A History of the Ravenclaw crest. That question had not occurred to me. Perhaps I was too close to the situation Rowena Ravenclaw had been in. If put in charge of creating a new Hogwarts House, I certainly wouldn't make the animal a Raven just because that was my name.

Too soon we were already to the E's—just four letters away from H. A girl named Delia Ember was sorted into Ravenclaw. Only Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws so far. Indeed, the next person sorted, a girl named Valora Faulkner, was sorted into Hufflepuff. Then a boy named Dexter Fredericks became a Hufflepuff too. But then came the first Slytherin, Sebastian Gerard, and there was much booing. I gave a shake of my head and a tut at the noise.

A couple more students went by before the first Gryffindor was selected. Professor Flitwick called the name, "Zephyr Gruger."

"Boy or girl?" I asked Alice in a whisper. I'd never heard the name Zephyr.

"Boy." She gave no other details. I imagined a sort of wispy fellow with large feet walking hunched over to the sorting hat. What I would give to see.

"Gryffindor!" the hat shouted soon after Zephyr's footsteps stopped.

This was the loudest cheer yet. How annoying. I wondered if Slytherin House had been so rambunctious after Merlin had come to fame. But I mean really, Potter was great—no doubt—but how long after Voldemort's defeat would it take before their unearned pride settled down?

Niles Griffin, Hufflepuff;1 Arthur Gully, Gryffindor—"He's so tiny," Alice remarked to me—and Wendy Hambledon, Hufflepuff were all sorted before my head started to feel fuzzy. Was it nerves? Or was it my eyes? Or both? I didn't know. But before I knew it Linn Hamilton, Ravenclaw; Bronte Hendrix; Slytherin; and Felicity Honeycutt, also Slytherin, had all been sorted. And then…

"Alice Husher."

I walked alongside Alice. I kept bumping shoulders with students, or teachers—I couldn't see who—as we walked. "Step," Alice said twice, and then she let go of me, and I stood somewhere around the sorting hat, perfectly aware that many eyes were on me and my eye mask. I would have guessed that out of the thousand years of Hogwarts, I was one of the select few who stood next to their sibling being sorted.2

The hat was quick with Alice, even quicker than it had been with Zephyr—though the result was the same. "Gryffindor." My involuntary groan was drowned out by the cheers of the Gryffindors.

Alice did not return to escort me to the hat. Instead I felt Professor Flitwick's tiny hand wrap around my wrist and guide me, saying, "Here now. Sit here." A stool whirled around my ankles—I felt the wind from it—and nudged me in the back of the legs. I sat and then felt an enormous hat fall over my head, my face, and my eyes.

"What a nasty injury that is," the hat said. It had a low voice, a sort of grumble in the back of the throat. "Most likely permanent in some regards, eh?"

I didn't answer. I had not imagined the hat to be so big. I thought I might have had a chance of fitting in it due to having a large head for my age, but Godric Gryffindor must have been a massive human being.3 That fitted the sort of big-headedness his house partook in.

"Not a fan of the Gryffindors, I see. And very compassionate to the Slytherin's plight. But oh-hooo, look at the brains you've got. The love of knowledge, and reading, and practice, and magic—a certain disregard for classes, but my, some dedication to your own education. Hmm. You are difficult."

The hat became quiet for a minute. At first, I awaited its decision, but then my mind wandered to Alice. She would be sitting at the Gryffindor table now, surrounded by other people and I longed to sit next to her.

"Loyalty to family," the hat remarked. "Or at least to your sister and mother. And a hard-working attitude, at least to what interests you. But such a want to be the best at everything you grasp. My, my..."

Another minute went by. I could hear muttering from the students. And was it in my head, or was the clock in the Great Hall getting much louder?

"I would have put you in Ravenclaw straight away if it hadn't been for your reluctance to be sorted too quickly, or to be automatically associated with that house because of your name."

The hat seemed more conversational now, and less likely to pick a house. What was wrong with me?

"Nothing," the hat said. "You're just a bit more complicated than most at your age.

I felt my back straighten.

"Though not as humble as you should be."

I slouched once more.

"Your intelligence and aptitude for magic seem your greatest strength, but what say you?" the hat asked. "Where would you have me put you?"

A roar of cheering erupted. And rhythmic pounding started on the tables. "Don't take me off," the hat warned. "Ignore them. What say you?"

I did my best to ignore the growing noise, the clattering of silverware on wood—I thought of three houses, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. I'd be fine with any, perhaps leaning a bit more to Ravenclaw's house, but wherever was best for me I wanted to be. I thought fleetingly of Alice, and again felt the longing to be near her. But Gryffindor was out of the question. No, any of the other three. Whichever was best for me.

"So I see," the hat said. "How would you define the house that is best for you?"

I had an immediate answer for that. "Whichever makes me grow the most."

"Hmmm," said the hat. "And that is more important to you? More important than your preferences?

"Yes," I said, without a hesitation.

A great cheer exploded out in the Great Hall.

"Better be," the house said—and it had to shout over the noise—"Gryffindor!"

1 The Gryffindors groaned at this selection.

2 This is one of those facts that, when it happens, you're mortified about. But the more I think about it the cooler it is. Hogwarts has been around for more than a millennium, but only a handful of people ever stood next to their sibling when they got sorted.

3 Considering people were much smaller then, I was flabbergasted to learn he stood at six foot five inches.