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Chapter 7: Conversations
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"Hey Adrienne!"
"Huh?" asked Adrienne, looking around to see who had called her.
"Do you plan on staying out there all night?" called Hermione, who was holding one of the very large oak doors open for her.
"Oh, right!" Adrienne ran up the stairs and through the door into the vast entrance hall.
She stopped in her tracks and looked around wide-eyed. Straight ahead was a large marble staircase that gleamed in the flickering torchlight. Large portraits were hung on the tapestry-adorned walls. Adrienne thought it looked like a picture of a Muggle museum she had seen once in Muggle Studies.
"Adrienne!" called Harry, waving his hand in front of her.
"What?" she asked, staring past Harry to a large doorway through which the students were filing through.
"What's that?" she asked pointing.
"The Great Hall," answered Hermione.
"Where they do the sorting?" Adrienne asked, suddenly realizing that she had no idea where she was supposed to go or whom she was supposed to see regarding this sorting business.
"Yep, but more importantly, where we eat. I'm starved!" said Ron, massaging his stomach.
"Me too," agreed Adrienne, turning her attention back to Hermione. "So you know where I'm supposed to go then?"
Hermione thought for a moment but before she could answer, Adrienne had begun speaking again.
"He must be a teacher - he'll know - I'll ask him," she said and began to stride across the hall to where a tall man had just came out of a darkened hallway. Harry, Hermione, and Ron turned; their mouths fell open in horror.
"Uh oh," said Harry as Adrienne pushed her way towards the one teacher in the entire school who wouldn't be any help.
"She had to pick Snape," mumbled Ron, shaking his head.
Snape looked up as Adrienne approached. She gave him a cheery smile and started speaking as soon as he was within hearing range.
"Excuse me, Professor, I'm new here and I don't know where I'm supposed to go to be sorted," she said, hoping she came off as someone the teacher would like.
"Why didn't you arrive on the boats like the other first years?" he asked softly.
Adrienne raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a first year; I'm a transfer."
Snape didn't say anything straight off, he just stared at Adrienne with a closed expression, his eyes darting several times to the opposite end of the hall where Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood, watching anxiously.
"What did you say your name was again?" he asked.
"Adrienne Miles, sir, form the Salem Academy of Magical Studies. . ."
"I didn't ask for your school, I asked for your name . . . Miles is it?"
"Yes."
Snape raised an eyebrow as if he didn't believe her. "Go through that door on the left," he said, pointing to a closed door next to a floral tapestry. "There's a woman in there, Professor McGonagall, she'll help you."
"Thank you Professor . . ."
"Snape."
"Professor Snape," she said, slowly, her smile wavering. She turned to leave.
"And see me after the sorting; we'll need to schedule a potions placement exam for you."
Adrienne turned around, confused. "I'm at a fifth year level, sir."
"I doubt that idiot of a Professor, Glenn, or whatever his name is, has really prepared you to that level, Miss Miles."
Adrienne took a deep breath, and narrowed her eyes. "I think you will find, Professor, that I am at the same level as your fifth year students."
"I hope you won't be expecting special treatment too, Miss Miles," Snape snapped, glaring at her.
Adrienne shook her head, amazed. "Why would I?"
Snape just smirked, and then finally, began to speak again. "If you don't go find Professor McGonagall you'll miss the sorting; you don't want to make that a habit either, Miles."
With that, Snape strode into the Great Hall. Adrienne stood still for a confused second, then cast an annoyed glance to the three still waiting for her and rushed over to the door Snape had indicated.
"Don't think they got off on the right foot," said Hermione as the trio took their seats in the already full hall.
Ron sat down, pulling an empty seat right up next to him to let everyone know he was saving it. Harry cast an amused look towards Ron, who quickly replied with, "In case she gets put in Gryffindor."
Hermione turned away so Ron wouldn't see her laugh.
"I hope we don't have to wait very long," said Harry, staring hungrily at the golden plate in front of him.
"I know," moaned Hermione, "I don't think I've ever been . . ." but a hush had fallen over the hall.
Harry looked up, Professor McGonagall was leading in the new batch of very nervous first years, and at the very end, behind two students Harry assumed must also be transfers, was a very calm and collected Adrienne.
Adrienne looked around the Great Hall amazed. Hundreds of eyes were staring at her and the kids in line ahead of her. She began searching for the Gryffindor table; however, she found the Slytherin table first, and sitting right at the end of it was none other but a very angry looking Malfoy. Adrienne stuck out her tongue at him and then smiled sarcastically. She looked up at the ceiling, which was a blue gray color and contained no stars. She was too interested in the ceiling to realize that the Sorting Hat had began singing, and only did the students' applause at the end snap her back from trying to decide how she could bewitch the ceiling to make it do something other than mirror the sky - thinking it could make a good April Fool's joke.
"When I call your name please step forward to be sorted," called out Professor McGonagall, unrolling a long sheaf of parchment.
"Allen, Jacob."
A tall blonde boy walked up to the three-legged stool upon which sat the tattered school sorting hat. He sat down and placed it on his head. Then he sat there, shaking slightly for several seconds before the hat declared his house.
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat finally yelled.
This process continued through...
"Cross, Leslie"...
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Himple, Rezmy"...
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Mallroy, Jennifer"...
"GRYFFINDOR!"
...finally ending with the last first year: "Young, Tiffany" who was made a Slytherin.
Only Tricia Leoni, Charles Gromble, and Adrienne remained.
"Now, I'm proud to introduce our three transfers from our American sister-school, the Salem Academy of Magical Studies," said Professor McGonagall. "Just like the rest of you, they too will be sorted; however, Salem's house system is much different than ours, so I expect you all will help them to familiarize themselves with it. And now, 7th year, Tricia Leoni."
Tricia walked forward and placed the Sorting Hat on her head; it had barely touched her when it screamed out, "RAVENCLAW." The same went for Charles Gromble.
"And lastly, fifth year, Adrienne Miles."
Adrienne walked forward confidently, telling herself all she had to do was let the hat decide what house she'd be put in: There was no possible way she could mess this up. Unfortunately for her, she was not aware that the Hogwarts' Sorting Hat had a habit of instigating conversion with its students.
"Ah, another one I see?"
Adrienne ripped the hat off her head. Professor McGonagall stared at her.
"Is that thing supposed to talk to you?" asked Adrienne, holding the hat at arm's length as if it might bite her. The hall burst into laughter.
"Sometimes, if it feels like it, I suppose," said McGonagall, obviously torn between amusement and impatience.
"Oh," Adrienne muttered, embarrassed, and promptly placed the hat back on her head. It slid down, covered her eyes, and whispered again:"Ah, another one!"
'What is that supposed to mean?' thought Adrienne, 'Another what?'
"You don't know?" asked the hat.
'What am I supposed to know?'
"You don't know who you are?"
'What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I know who I am: I'm Adrienne Lily Miles.'
"But you're not."
'Not what?' Adrienne spat bitterly.
"Not Adrienne Miles."
Adrienne rolled her eyes under the hat. 'Of course I am; who else would I be?'
"You seriously don't know?"
Adrienne took a deep breath. 'Know what?' she hissed aloud.
"This makes it much more complicated."
'Its not that hard hat, just say what house I'm supposed to be in!'
"It isn't that easy now," whispered the hat.
'Why not?'
"Well, you'd make a good Slytherin, you do have a Slytherin's temper..."
'I do not," thought Adrienne angrily.
"Yes you do. I can see everything about you."
'Right, so tell me something else, hat; what else don't I know that you do after sitting on my head for a minute?'
"I know everyone thinks you to be dead."
"THAT'S IT!" shouted Adrienne, pulling the hat off her head in disgust. "I'm not putting that crazy thing back on!"
Professor McGonagall blinked several times: This hadn't happened before. She stole a quick glance at Dumbledore, who seemed rather amused.
"Miss Miles, you haven't let the hat sort you yet," said McGonagall with more patience than she'd had in a while.
"It won't! It says 'I'm not that easy,'" Adrienne spat.
"Just give it a little more time, it will sort you."
"If I give it some more time it'll probably deny I ever existed! Right now it's saying I'm supposed to be dead!"
McGonagall raised her eyebrows and Dumbledore sat up bolt in his chair, staring at Adrienne rather intently.
"I'm not putting it on again," declared Adrienne, standing up.
"You need to be sorted into a house."
"I'll just mingle if it's ok with you; I'll be a floater."
"We don't have floaters, Miss Miles."
Adrienne glared at the hat she was still holding.
"Miss Miles, we can't eat until you're sorted," said Professor McGonagall, surveying the mutinous student faces at the tables, many staring longingly at the empty plates. Adrienne looked around; they didn't look amused anymore, but quite clearly, displeased.
"Fine!"
"Back again, Adrienne?" the Sorting Hat whispered.
'Just tell me what house I'll be in.'
"Ok. Slytherin or Gryffindor - which one - you'd do fine in both."
'I'm losing my patience.'
"Well, you are ill-tempered."
'I'm not.'
The hat ignored her. "But then there's your history."
'I don't have a history: I'm an orphan."
"You're special Adrienne. You know what you are capable of?"
'Yeah, ripping you to shreds.'
"Your temper, Adrienne; Slytherins are known for their temper, but you've got a strong heart. Yes, I see it now ... GRYFFINDOR!"
Adrienne sighed as she flung the hat onto the stool and strode over to the chair Ron was indicating her to sit in.
"You and the hat not very compatible?" asked Ron, grinning form ear to ear.
Adrienne glared at him. "That's an understatement."
Professor Dumbledore stood up and raised his hands for silence. "Welcome to Hogwarts," he glanced around the room at the ravenous students, "But I can see you all are too hungry to listen to me, so what do you say, eat first, listen later?"
With that the empty gold plates filled with food and the Great Hall with the sound of clinking china.
Adrienne filled her plate with Shepherd's Pie and her goblet with a strange looking orange substance that Ron told her was pumpkin juice and began eating silently, thinking about what the hat had said: "You're not Adrienne Miles ... Everyone thinks you to be dead ... Do you know what you're capable of?"
Adrienne slammed her goblet onto the table. Hermione, Ron, and Harry stared at her.
"Something the matter, Adrienne?" asked Hermione.
"No," she replied shaking her head, "Nothing that you guys can help me with.
"Why don't you try us?" suggested Harry.
"It's too weird."
"Weird? We've gone way past weird, we're probably up to alternate universe by now," Ron muttered.
"Honestly, I'm fine," said Adrienne, shaking her head.
"Ok," Hermione replied skeptically, and she turned back to her green beans.
Adrienne looked down at her plate; for some reason she wasn't very hungry any more.
In no time the dishes had been wiped clear and Dumbledore was again standing up. "Welcome to the start of a hopefully uneventful term."
Several cheers rang through the hall, including those of Adrienne's new friends.
"Just a couple of beginning of term reminders. Like always, the forbidden forest is just as its name implies: forbidden, off limits to students at all times, during all conditions and hours, no exceptions." His eyes flicked to two identical red-heads sitting several chairs down from Adrienne, who were trying very unsuccessfully to look innocent.
"And this year the Inter-House Championship will be reinstated."
The room erupted with cheers.
"In addition, dueling lessons are being made a standard part of our curriculum; however, each house will also have a competitive team, which will compete during several tournaments during the year. Please look to your head of house for further information," Dumbledore paused, his smile weakening and his bright eyes dulling.
"In light of last year's events," the hall fell deathly quiet, "there will be a curfew of all students being inside the castle before sunset and the number of Hogsmeade trips will be reduced. This is for your own safety and disobeying these rules will result in severe punishment. And now, I think, it is time for bed. Remember, classes begin tomorrow; your Prefects have your timetables this year."
The hall filled with the scraping of chairs and the reinstated murmur of the students. Adrienne stood up slowly, having made up her mind not to go find Professor Snape. Realizing how very tired she was, she trooped after Hermione, who was scrounging up the confused first years.
* * * * *
Albus Dumbledore sat quietly as he watched his students filing out of the Great Hall.
Professor McGonagall shifted in her chair uneasily and once the hall had emptied: "This Adrienne Miles, she reminds me of someone," McGonagall whispered so that none of the other teachers would hear.
"She reminds me of three people," said Albus, nodding. McGonagall waited for Dumbledore to continue, but he didn't.
"Meaning?" she asked, but the arrival of a lone owl distracted Dumbledore from answering.
"Post this late?" he murmured, taking the envelope from the owl. McGonagall leaned over in her chair to see the seal on the back of the envelope: It was the seal of the Minister of Magic.
"What does he want?" she asked in disgust.
Dumbledore carefully opened it and removed a letter. He adjusted his glasses and began to read. For several moments afterwards he sat there quietly.
"Albus, what is it?" McGonagall finally asked as Dumbledore placed the letter into her outstretched hand.
"The Golden Serpent has disappeared?" she whispered, paling, "But who?"
Dumbledore looked at her, amazed. "There is only one person with need of it."
"Why, it is of no use to He-Who. . . I mean… Voldemort. He couldn't possibly be capable of using it," she stuttered, shaking her head.
"The prophecy," murmured Dumbledore, reaching across and taking the letter from McGonagall.
"What does a prophecy made by our own resident crazy about a dead child have to do with this?" she asked, confused.
"Everything."