The First Mistake
I took a deep breath, still slightly confused, took off the hat, and walked down the steps off to the side of the stage. A large table on the far right cheered and applauded, welcoming me, though many shared looks of confusion. An older student, transferring? That had never happened before.
I took another shaky breath and stared at the strangers. I felt so alone. I hadn't gotten to know any of the Hufflepuffs I'd been introduced to, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken me around to the different compartments. There'd been so many people I'd been introduced to... but now, I recognized a popular-looking girl from one of the crowded rooms on the train.
I remembered her name because her friends had teased her about it when Hermione pointed her out as we stood in the doorway. Susan Bones-- that was it. She was a tall, thin girl with a deep tan and long, thick black hair. She had been dressed in casual jeans, a T-shirt, and clogs when I'd met her. Justin Finch-Fletchley, yes, that was his name, they'd been hanging out together, and now I recognized him sitting next to her.
She smiled and motioned at me to have a seat on her other side. I sat down gratefully, smiling back at her. "Hi," she said. "I remember you from the train. You seem a bit wet," she said, laughing, tilting her head pointedly at my damp hair and robes.
I laughed along with her. "Oh, well, yes, I am. A bit." Looking closely at her, I realized she wasn't wet at all. "Why aren't you, though?"
She shrugged. "Just a small charm I know. I pick them up everywhere, not necessarily from school. Stick with me and you'll learn loads of oddball stuff."
I quirked one eyebrow. "I think I might want to learn loads of oddball stuff, if it'll keep me dry."
She giggled and opened her mouth to say something, but an old wizard at the top of the Great Hall began to speak. I knew him to be Professor Dumbledore immediately. His flowing, silvery hair and beard, combined with his twinkling blue eyes and youthful smile, added such a pleasant, grandfatherly aura to him that I couldn't help but feel comfortable and eased.
"Hullo, my dear Hogwarts students. For my new first-years, among others--" at this he stared pointedly at me, smiling slightly-- "we welcome you to our school, and hope you manage to learn something this year. And as for the others, I assume that your heads are so full from the other years here, that you'll be wanting to clean them out. May good food and drink be the solution!" With that, the golden dishes on all the tables filled up, loaded with all varieties of food. "Tuck in!" was Professor Dumbledore's last comment, but it was drowned out by the steady laughter and chatter and the clink of dishes and silverware.
"Wow. Yum," I said weakly, having lost my appetite when I realized what all this food resembled. I felt like I was sitting at the Dursley's kitchen table again, and that had not been fun.
Justin Finch-Fletchley gave me a close-mouthed grin through his tuna casserole-- thank you for closing your mouth, I silently prayed-- and mumbled, "'ey! This is great! Dig in, you'll love it!"
I smiled tiredly. "I'll try," I said, helping myself to some of the things I hadn't seen in the Dursley's kitchen. I had to search up and down the table for a few minutes to find anything.
"So..." Susan started, trailing off hesitantly. She shot me a look and tried again. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. My parents thought it would be a better education than all the public high schools in the United States. And I even have an Aunt living here I can stay with on break and all that."
She nodded slowly, eyeing me up and down. I felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "Well..." she started off, unimpressed. "I guess you'll survive as a Hufflepuff. You look more like a Gryffindor to me. Do you have any reason why the Sorting Hat put you in our house?"
I glanced down into my lap, my fingers twisted together. So lonely. I felt so lonely. I was stuck here in this huge castle, in a foreign country, without any of my old friends to talk to at night. And all of my new friends I would never see. Reluctantly, I answered her question. "He actually said I would've fit perfectly into any of the houses, but there was something about someone in Gryffindor that I wouldn't have worked well with, I guess, so he put me in here."
A look of recognition flashed across Justin's face. "Probably that 'Arry Potter," he said knowingly through a mouthful of food, spraying mashed potatoes everywhere. "I've 'ad some trouble with 'im in the past, myself."
A gave him a pained smile, nodding. "What kind of trouble?" I said, politely encouraging him.
He waved his hand. "Aw, it was nothing really. Just some stuff about my thinking he was the heir to Slytherin..." he trailed off, blushing slightly. "But that's all over with, you know. We all know who that was." Susan and him exchanged glances.
"You mean Voldemort?" I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows and leaning forward.
Susan whipped around to face me, her long hair flying. Justin's eyes widened and he began to sputter and cough on some food. As Susan absently patted his back with one hand, she trained her eyes on me. "You're like him, you know," she said disgustedly. "Just going around, spouting off his name like you don't have a care in the world. Don't you have the common decency to at least use the term 'You-Know-Who' around other people?"
My mouth opened and closed several times. I really had no way to answer her. I couldn't think of anything to say. So instead I turned back to my barely touched plate and sighed. If I was going to be stuck in this house, I was going to have a long year.
Susan was Little Miss Popular. Justin was a bit of a dimwit. And all the others apparently revered them in silent awe, without mind's of their own to go against anything anyone said. The only action I'd seen out of the other students at the table tonight, after they had stopped talking when I took a seat, was the chubby, pink-faced blonde on the end constantly nodding her head, her eyes ping-ponging from person to person. Hara, I dimly remembered her name being. No, wait. Hannah. That was it.
"So anyway, about that Harry Potter. I've sorta patched things up with him, but's he's a strange one, hanging around with that poor Weasley kid and that bookworm Hermione," Justin concluded, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave me a grin. I didn't grin back.
"Actually," I said, "I happen to like all three of them. If you don't remember, they're who I was with on the train when we went around to all the compartments. And I'm also good friends with five other Gryffindors: Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, George and Fred Weasley, and Lee Jordan."
Susan shrugged indifferently. "Well, you choose your friends. I just hope you choose the right ones, that's all." She turned back to her grilled chicken salad and dug her fork into it. The action was final. Clearly, that was the end of it.
Shaking my head in mild amusement and disbelief, I decided to change the subject. After an awkward second's delay, I asked, "So are you and Justin going out?"
It was a polite question, but the response I got was demeaning. Justin choked on his food again, this time with laughter, and Susan giggled, staring at me incredulously. "Going out?!" she squealed. "I wouldn't date his butt if you paid me!" They laughed together, and she ruffled his sandy blonde hair. "No, no, sorry. I meant I wouldn't go out with him ever!"
Justin chortled. "Well, as for whether I would go out with you, let's just say I'd rather be set up on a blind date with Pansy Parkinson!" The whole table laughed appreciatively, and Susan turned to face me again. She sported a mocking smile.
"Does that answer your question?" she smirked. "The answer's a big, fat N-O. We aren't. Justin and I've been best friends since we were toddlers. I don't even think of him as a member of the opposite sex anymore."
"Besides," Justin put in. "I've already got a girlfriend. Hannah over there." He nodded his head across the table, where a bright red Hannah was staring down into her lap.
"How you doin, Hannah?" Justin said roughly, dipping his gaze to try to meet her eyes.
"Fine," she mumbled meekly.
"That's good, baby. I only want the best for my girl," Justin finished, turning back to Susan without so much as a smile or, for that matter, actual eye contact.
I rolled my eyes and rose both brows. Those two? They hadn't said one word to each other all night. And as for their conversation... I wondered if Justin realized he came off sounding like a bad imitation of a cheap ladies man. Or at the very least, a fumbling mockery of a bad gansta movie. I decided it was in my best interest to refrain from asking Justin if either personality suited him.
Before I could engage my fellow Hufflepuffs in more enlightening conversation, a light tap fell on my right shoulder. I turned eagerly toward my savior. Whoever had rescued me from this mind trap was worthy of some serious respect.
An intimidating Professor Dumbledore stood above me, treating me with a soft grin through his beard. "Good evening, loyal Hufflepuffs. Would it be of great disadvantage if I stole dear Opal away for a mere minute?" The students smiled easily at their Headmaster, either comfortable with him or relieved to get rid of me. More likely a draw between the two.
"Opal, a word, if you will?" Dumbledore asked me, his eyes burning into mine.
"That's fine," I said. "I'm sure we have a lot to work out." As I followed him out of the Great Hall, I realized the meals from the dishes were starting to fade away, being replaced by splendid looking desserts.
I turned to glance over at the Gryffindor table. George looked up at that split second and caught my eye, grinning and waving frantically, beckoning me over. I shook my head reluctantly, pointing to the Headmaster I was trailing. He shrugged disappointedly, giving me a quick thumbs-up.
When we finally exited the noisy din and stood in the hushed cavern of the entrance hall, I still wasn't able to wipe the goofy grin from my face.
"Opal," he started, swishing off down the hall. I easily caught up to him, and in a matter of seconds we were striding along next to each other at a comfortable pace. "I'm sure there's many questions you want answered. Unfortunately, I am unable to do that. There are things you must discover on your own... though I will know the details when the time is right."
I listened in rapt attention to his papery voice slide over his tongue and out his mouth, practiced, precise, and uniquely sharp with rich texture. This was a man I knew immediately I could trust. He continued as we walked along, winding through shadowed passages, which were lit only by the flickering flair of torches and squares of ice white moonlight from the windows, high above.
"You have come here not only because of the logical reasons, though you may choose to believe what you wish. There is also a legend surrounding your return here-- a myth that has died out. Not many people believe in it anymore. But I know it to be true. The visions come at night, and when a wizened old wizard like me has visions, a person can't be more sure." He chuckled merrily, still strolling along. But I'd become confused.
"Professor, I'm sorry to interrupt. But you said 'your return here'. I'd never even seen Hogwarts, or heard of it for that matter, until a few weeks ago. How could I be returning to a place I've never been?"
He turned to stare at me with those cutting eyes. They seemed to see to the depths of my soul, but I wasn't afraid. "Opal. Such profound words for such a young child. You have no idea how right you are. Or how wrong." He closed his eyes and rubbed long fingers into the lids.
"I don't know how much you've heard, but all I am allowed to tell you is that when the time is right and the hosts are ripe with certainty, le Fay and Merlin will make their appearances," he said heavily. "This is why you have been sent here. A protection of sorts, yes, but also because it is what was written. You were to meet Harry Potter for reasons deeper and more horrifying than imaginable."
I gulped, my heart racing slightly. I'd heard part of what he was saying when I listened to Aunt Kella and Cornelius, but now it made a little bit more sense. Of course, it was still impossibly ridiculous, and I would never work it all out before the 'time was right'. Though I was probably supposed to.
We stopped at a door. I had no idea where it went, but apparently Dumbledore did. He opened it for me and when I walked out onto the small balcony, we were looking out over a large stretch of grass that led down into the courtyards and winding paths. I leaned against the railing, letting the wind tousle my now-dry hair, feeling the cool, dry flutters whisper at my cheeks. He followed suit, tugging his hat down a bit.
We watched the nightly activity in the gardens below us in companionable silence, but finally Professor Dumbledore spoke. "Why do things happen the way they do, Opal? Such a mysterious fabric, the universe is made of. 'Why' is such a remarkably general word, it can be applied to everything. But the biggest context I can think to use it in is the question why someone over someone else? Why her and not him? Why this exact person?"
He turned to face me. I stared out over the garden for a second, eyes squinted slightly. "I don't know, Sir. I was just asking myself that." It was quiet for a long minute when he spoke up again.
"'How' is also another favorite of mine. How are there legends, myths, and prophecies? How do the stars know what is going to happen before we do? What is the universe holding back from us that we cannot know, that we can only guess and imagine at?" he questioned softly, staring up at the stars, an unreadable expression on his face. But then it melted into joyous peace, and he finished with, "Alas, though I hate to admit it, it takes a certain burden off our backs, wouldn't you say?"
I nodded silently, watching him speak animatedly.
"To know that someone else, something else takes care of us? Intervenes in our life so that we stay on the properly beaten path?"
We stayed out there for another five or ten minutes at least, in complete and utter silence, admiring the beauty of unrestrained nature. Nothing interrupted this pure quiet, except for the raw, piercing cry of a bird.
"Well, we should head in, Opal," Dumbledore said finally, drawing his eyes from the stars, which he had been studying. I nodded and followed him back through the doors toward the Great Hall. I didn't cast any regretful looks or glances toward the stained glass exit. I knew I would be back.
(*)
"Minerva, I believe you've met our Opal Harris?" Dumbledore said cheerfully as he led me into his office. It was at the top of a long case of narrow, hidden steps, and the room was large, personal, and circular. After he'd closed and locked the door, he seated himself at his desk and motioned for me to have a seat. I chose the leather-padded armchair next to Professor McGonagall.
"Yes, I have," Professor McGonagall answered Dumbledore's question. "I was confused by her presence at first, but I'm sure everything's in order, Dumbledore? Why is she here? Not for the reason I'm thinking?" the strict teacher said, cutting right to the chase. She sat tensely, poised on the edge of her chair.
Dumbledore's cheery grin slipped a notch, but stayed intact all the same. "Yes, Minerva, she is here because of the prophecy."
My teacher crumbled, her head dropping into her hands. Her entire body shook as she desperately tried to get in control of herself. Soft, muffled sobs rang out briefly. I myself was horrified. Whatever could make this teacher weep bitter tears had to be awful. How could I do this? Fight something of such magnificent magnitude? I didn't even know what I was facing. I was struck with so much fear and worry of the future, that I almost keeled over right then and there from the nerves of it all. But I didn't. I forced myself to remain calm. When let loose, my tears would rival those of Professor McGonagall's.
"Now, now, Minerva... it's quite all right, I've known this for quite some time now. I suppose I could have let you know a bit earlier," he mused, looking on curiously as McGonagall pulled herself together. He sucked absently on a lemon drop. "The real reason I've called this brief meeting is because you are her Fourth Year Councilor, and should be present for such a big event."
"Event?" Professor McGonagall questioned, biting her lip. "What event is she to involved in?"
"Oh, well, it's not really anything big. We'll be switching her course schedule around-- I've already notified the house elves, they're moving her things as we speak--" Dumbledore explained smoothly.
"You don't mean...." McGonagall said, her eyes widened.
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "You are correct, Minerva. It was the first mistake, but how should he have known? His kind aren't aware of legends and lies, I'm sure."
"But the decision was supposed to be final. It's always been the rule," Professor McGonagall argued, firmly pressing her lips together. She appeared very irritated by something. "He's never wrong, not once, Dumbledore. That's why Godric suggested him in the first place-- the most honest answer of all."
"I'm sure that's all good and true, Minerva, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It's merely a matter of doing what has to be done. You know that, just conform to it. Please, Minerva," Dumbledore said, smiling.
It took her a few seconds of stony silence, but finally she cracked a reluctant, pained grin. "Well, she's a brilliant student, I'm sure, she'll rack up the points. And you are aware of my mild competitive streak, Professor."
Dumbledore began to laugh heartily. "Mild, my dear? Oh, Great Wizards! Too much excitement for one night."
McGonagall reclined in her chair a bit more casually. "You know," she mused. "He's probably not going to be too thrilled. People will say he made his first mistake, and assume he's going rusty. We may even get parents showing up requesting for their children next year. They'll say he's losing his touch."
"Oh, but no, McGonagall, dear," Dumbledore corrected wisely. "We'll know the truth. It may have been his first mistake, but it'll surely be his last. Godric was right: he's never wrong."
"Excuse me," Opal interrupted finally. Her head was a blur of confusion. She'd sat there for long enough, listening to all this chatter of he and him and his, and she had absolutely not the faintest idea in the world what-- or who, she guessed-- they were talking about. "What are you talking about? Who do you keep referring to? And why would my stuff have to be moved? My course schedule altered?"
"Sorry, Opal," Dumbledore explained. "Not your fault of course, I should have explained it from the beginning. See, the situation is this: the Sorting Hat was wrong." He stopped to smile deeply. "You're being moved to Gryffindor. It's where you belong."