Lions
The table farthest to my right practically exploded. Several roars like a lion sounded off. The screams of students echoed off the walls, and I could hear people yelling something like "batrawl"—which befuddled me. I clapped my hands over my ears as the hat was pulled off. That would be the Gryffindors, though I couldn't understand why their cheering was so much louder than it had been for anyone else.
I heard Professor Flitwick yell over the crowd—"Ms. Husher would you please escort Mr. Husher to Gryffindor table, thank you."
I stood and felt Alice's hand slip into mine. She clutched it tight and walked me to the right, toward the noise. "They're saying you're a hat stall," Alice said. "Do you know—"
"No." A hat stall? Presumably I'd taken an extra-long time with the sorting hat. I heard students shuffling in front of us, and Alice placed me on the edge of a long bench so that I didn't have to hoist my legs over the wood.
"Well done mate."
"Excellent!"
"Hasn't been a hat stall in years!" called another student.
I heard Alice asking questions, but no answers came as Professor McGonagall's voice rang throughout the Hall. "Quiet please, we are in the midst of the Sorting."
The Gryffindor's quieted and the sorting continued with a boy named Carl Ivers, who was sorted into Slytherin. The rest of the sorting went on without much fanfare. At one-point Alice squeezed my hand and leaned in to say, "The blond boy who laughed at you is up next.1
"Lucas Morgan." There was much muttering. I thought his father might be Laurence Morgan, head of Magical Law Enforcement, who'd just survived an attempt on his life by his own brother. Probably. Lucas was put in Slytherin.
Next was, "Courtney Nighy."2 There were giggles from students as she approached the stool. Evidently she was still wearing her birthday hat.
"Kindly remove your celebratory décor," said Professor Flitwick.3
"She's not allowed!" I recognized her sisters voice from the next table over, the Hufflepuff table.
There was a great deal of laughter, but Courtney must have removed the hat—either that or Flitwick thrust the sorting hat on top of hers. But the hat took a long time—and again the clock in the great hall increased in volume. But just as the students started to pound on the table the sorting hat declared, "Gryffindor." I felt the bench beneath me kick out and just managed to hold on as students stood to cheer.
The very last person to be sorted was Shelby.4 No other Gryffindors had been selected, and I wondered if only five in a House was low. There were over thirty Hufflepuffs alone.
Professor Flitwick called her up. I put my thumbs up in, what I hoped was, the direction of Shelby and the Sorting Hat.
"Ravenclaw," was the hat's call. There was a good deal of noise from two tables down but quiet quickly consumed the hall. I heard the footsteps of someone in heels and then Professor McGonagall spoke.
"Welcome," she said, "and eat up."
"Here, here," said a deep voice across the table. "So, you're a hat stall, eh?"
"What is that?" I asked, hoping that I was looking right at the speaker and now somewhere off towards Mars.
"Well it's when the Sorting Hat takes longer than five minutes to sort you, isn't it? Hasn't happened for ages. There are rumors Potter was a Hat Stall, but McGonagall said he only took a minute or two. Flitwick was almost one, and McGonagall was one herself—fact, she might be the last one who did it. Come to think of it, I think you get awarded house points for being a hat stall." The gruff voice stopped, then said, "Cygnus Dolohov—oh now, don't murder me. I'm only distantly related to the Death Eater. Besides, my father hates that whole side of family." Cygnus stopped talking, and it took me a moment to figure out why.
"Alice would you shake Cygnus's hand for me, I can't see it."
"But he's a Dolohov," she whispered. I'm sure Cygnus heard it.
"The Malfoy's are Dad's fourth cousins, but you don't see anyone not shaking your hand," I said back.
"I promise I don't bite," said Cygnus. I believe they shook hands then.
I asked Alice to fill my plate, but that I could eat from there. The sounds of the Gryffindor student eating were repulsive. Slurps and belches and coughing, the slamming of fork and goblets—all of it was very poor manners indeed – though to be fair it may have been that all the other houses ate like this.5
From what I could make, Alice had given me some sort of meat—I thought it was beef, but I realized now how I relied on my eyes to tell me what I was eating. I could make out the peas by their size and taste, and the Yorkshire pudding by its smell. I ate but stopped myself short of being stuffed.
As Alice piled my plate with food a voice ushered from across the table. "Are you alright, Raven?"
I assumed the first-year mandated name tag gave away my name. I nodded, chewing on the pudding.
"He got hit with two curses that mixed together, right in the eyes," said Cygnus "I saw it from the platform. Nasty bit of work. Looked like his skull was filled with fireworks for a mo."
"Did you see who did it?" I asked Cygnus.
"Yeah I did. Some Slytherin bloke—scumbag, and Oakley Woodhouse—he's actually not bad. He, well here he comes actually."
I felt a large hand on my shoulder. It pushed on me, turning me slightly. I think he'd squatted down to be on eye level with me. That's the general direction I heard his voice come from anyway. "I'm sorry you got hit by my spell. Are you alright?"
He had a smooth voice. It was on the deeper side, like Cygnus, but without the harsh pronunciations, or the loud level of volume. I did the same as before and nodded.
"Will you be okay?"
I nodded once more.
"Professor McGonagall says there will be no more damage," Alice said. "So that's good."
"That is good," Oakley said. "What's your name?"
"Raven." Wasn't I wearing my name tag?
"I owe you one Raven. Come find me at the Hufflepuff table if you need anything." I heard his feet move. "Thanks for taking care of him…"
"Alice, I'm his sister," she sounded cheerful and I wondered if this boy, Oakley, was cute.
I heard a small, "oh" from the girl across the table.
"Well thanks again." His voice now came from higher up—he stood, I think. "Bye Raven—Alice, Cygnus."
"See ya, Oak," Cygnus said. A bit of time went by and he said, "Like I said, not a bad person."
The girl from across the table jutted in. "I'm Courtney by the way, Courtney Nighy. Your Raven's sister?"
"Yep. Do you two know each other?"
My head snapped up in Courtney's direction. I felt for my nametag. It was no longer there. "Met on the train," I said quickly. "Are you alright, Courtney? You didn't get birthday present."
"Oh it's fine. I mean my brother said he'd skin me alive if I got in Gryffindor, but—"
"He'll be a Slytherin then," said Cygnus. "Nighy you said? Your brother is Christopher?"
Courtney must have motioned yes, because she did not say anything.
"That's the other bloke who hit Raven here. Saw him try and hex Oakley while he wasn't looking. He was All-House Champion runner-up last year. Lost to Oakley in the final duel."6
I didn't know if Courtney shook or nodded her head, and I didn't really care. My curiosity was peaked. "All-House Champion? Do you mean they brought back the Championship? I thought Headmaster Black banned it from Hogwarts? Something to do with school not being for entertainment."
Cygnus laughed. "McGonagall brought it back, right when she became Headmistress. She's quiet keen on games for students. She's doubled the amount of Quidditch games too. Each House plays the other twice now. She's organized tournaments for Chess and Gobstones, and Potions competitions, and all sorts. They're all optional of course, but the All-Championship is not. Every student must compete.
"Every student?" Alice asked. "Even first years?"
"Of course. But you'll only have to start out facing other Gryffindor first years."
"What type of challenges?" I asked.
"Random each time, isn' it?" Cygnus said. "Some are one-on-one challenges. Some are group challenges, except for the last round. The Final is always a one-on-one duel between the last two players. They're almost always a sixth and seventh year."
"How do they determine who wins when you're playing your house?" Alice asked.
"It's a point system. You gain points for how well you do. Each task is worth a different amount of points. Sometimes its winner takes all, sometimes you get points for small things like spell work or creativity."
"So, I have to compete against my fellow first year Gryffindors and then what?" I asked.
I noticed Courtney asked no questions—no doubt her brother had told her everything about the tournament. I wondered if her brother had left out the detail that he'd been beaten in half a minute.
"In your case you'd play against the other first year champions from the other three houses. And it's the same thing. Group or one-on-one challenges until just one of you is left. Then you go and play against the representatives from each year. First years to seventh years all mixed in together. A final seven. And there's no guarantee that each house will be represented in the final seven. Three years ago, there were no Gryffindors for the first time in half a millennia.
"Have you ever made it to the final seven?" Courtney asked.
"Two years ago," said Cygnus. "I made it to the semi-finals but lost to Oakley in a Bogart challenge." He sighed. "We were supposed to stay in the room with our Bogart for as long as we could without showing any emotion; no screaming, crying, or doing any protective wand work. But I think Oak had an advantage. His bogart was seeing his siblings being killed one at a time by Death Eaters. Not that that's not awful, but it's pretty easy when you know it isn't real."
"What was yours?" Alice asked.7
"A swarm of Acromantulas," Cygnus said. "One of them came right down in front of my face, eyes inches from mine, it's pincers right at my throat. I had to fight. What if Bogarts could simulate being swallowed whole?"
"Can Bogarts simulate being eaten by a giant spider?" I asked—cutting off Alice's question about what an Acromantula was.
"I asked Professor Silsbury—sorry she's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—that same question. She told me she didn't know, that there weren't any reports, but that it was possible. So, I guess we'll never know."
Dessert appeared—I could smell it. Cygnus stopped talking as he gathered what he wanted. Alice leaned over and asked if it was okay to eat dessert again. Mother's warning about obese wizards rang through my mind once more. But it was the start of term feast, and we might as well enjoy ourselves. I told Alice as much. She gave me a slice of apple treacle tart with vanilla ice cream, which just about melted me.
"Has a first year ever won?" Courtney asked.
"Rowena Ravenclaw's great-great-great grandson, Tristan Orcutt. He went on to be one of the first Aurors in England before he was murdered by Iker Pique—an infamous Spanish Wizard who relished in killing English Wizarding families," I answered. "Iker was rumored to be a holder of the Elder wand—what nonsense."
Cygnus made a sound of approval. "We had a first year who was one of the last four people left when I was in my second year. A Ravenclaw named Ignatius Embers. He's over there, reddish-brown hair. He was in the Finals three years ago but lost to Gwenog Scrimgor. It was a hell of a duel."
Cygnus went on to explain a little more of tournament, including that each point you earn on your score is a point towards your house. "Yeah it's great. If you get a score of ten, your house gets ten points too." He then told us some of his favorite memories from the tournament. Alice asked a lot of questions—of course she'd want to win the whole thing this year. I wished I could've seen if Courtney was interested in the conversation or not. She became very quiet, but I couldn't tell if it was just because she was listening intently, or bored.
My spoon scraped the last bits of tart out of my bowl as the Hall quieted once more.
Professor McGonagalls voice overtook any clattering of dishes.
"Now that you have all eaten, I have a few announcements before the start of term. Since tomorrow is Friday we will not be starting classes until the following Monday." There was great applause at this. "However, let us take that chance to get all our scheduled activities out of the way. Quidditch tryouts will be this weekend. Gryffindors and Ravenclaws tomorrow, Slytherins on Saturday and Hufflepuffs on Sunday. Orientation for new students will start tomorrow evening as per usual for the first weekend of school. New students, your heads of houses will give you both your classes schedule and your orientation schedule tomorrow morning in your house common room. Please follow your prefects back to your common room to understand how to enter your house. Professor Sprout—" the Headmistress paused, I think to let Professor Sprout stand or wave—is Hufflepuff head of house. Professor Flitwick is Ravenclaw head of house. Professor Slughorn is Slytherin head of house, and Professor Silsbury is Gryffindor Head of House."
Professor Silsbury, head of Gryffindor and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—got it.
"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that any product from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is banned, along with the other five-hundred and twenty-six products from various businesses. The full list can be found on his office door. I will also note to any student who is found to have been ill in class and neglected go to Madam Pomfrey will cost their house points."
"How do students get away with skiving snack boxes?" Alice asked.
"You'd be surprised how many teachers don't check with Madam Pomfrey," Cygnus whispered back.
"We have no change in staff this year, which I must say is a relief. Both Professor Firenze and Trelawney will continue to split Divination. Third years will start with Trelawney, fourth years with Firenze, and so on.
"I will remind you all that the forest at the edge of the grounds is forbidden, as is the use of magic in the halls. Dueling is strictly forbidden, and if I have to remind any of you it will be with fairly large consequences. The first detention handed out will lose that person's house twenty-five points. Hogsmeade weekend visits are for third years and up only—the first one being three weeks from Saturday. And don't forget, the All-House Championship will begin just after that Hogsmeade visit on the Monday.
"Lastly, I hope each of you will study hard this year and do your best. Don't forget to be respectful of your teachers, and do not be out of bed after hours." There was a large pause, and I longed to see why. "I believe we had a hat stall this year," she said. I could feel eyes on me. "What was the exact time Filius?"
"Five minutes and forty-two seconds Minerva," Professor Flitwick said.
"Then to begin our term I award Gryffindor fifty-four points." More cheering. I felt a big hand—probably Cygnus's—clap me on the back. "To bed with you all."
But there were protests from the students and one large voice from the staff table shouted, "Song!"
"Very well," McGonagall said, though she said it rather dismissively—"chose your own tune and start whenever you wish."
The whole school broke out into various melodies. Cygnus started singing an old Scottish tune. Courtney sang from something I recognized from Aerosmith. But both Alice and I remained silent. The school song wasn't in Hogwarts: A History and our dad had never taught us it.
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."
It was a silly song, beyond all measure. I wondered when it had been created and why all the students clamored to sing it. But I didn't have long to wonder. The benches scraped against the floor as students stood and started to leave. I rose with them, Alice's arm around my forearm. I could hear a man shouting out Courtney's name.
"Gryffindor? Gryffindor? Really? Come on Courtney? Is the Sorting Hat pulling a prank on me?"
"Sorry Chrissy" Courtney said. "I asked to be in Slytherin, but he said Slytherin would only encourage bad behavior in me."
I couldn't hear Christopher's response. The voice of Madam Pomfrey was behind me saying, "I'll take him dear. Come on Mr. Husher, back to the Hospital wing." Alice let go, and I was being guided by the smooth hands of Madam Pomfrey.
"I've been brewing something upstairs I think will help. We'll try it out when we get up there." She sighed. "You won't have to be like this much longer."
1 Of course, she meant the boy on the train, laughing at when I gave Shelby water.
2 The birthday girl from the train.
3 I must admit Flitwick's politeness during the sorting ceremony immediately made me regret becoming a Gryffindor and losing out on having him as my head of house.
4 What a peculiar name, Westwater.
5 I soon found that indeed all the house tables did have poor manners. Much to my dismay I also found that most people everywhere have such poor manners.
6 There was no apology from Cygnus to Courtney for having referred to her brother as a scumbag earlier.
7 Again showing tactlessness.