Unplottable Island
Chapter 8:
Sorting
Tim shuffled his feet nervously, listening to the
dulled roar of all the other Hogwart's students. Any minute now, he had to go in. He had never been in the presence of so
many people in his life. Just being
around Harry and Sirius had been difficult sometimes.
But there was so much to know about Hogwarts!
In the company of Harry and Sirius (as a big black
dog) Tim had learned the finer points of Hogwarts—secret passage ways, trick
staircases, and useful ways of getting rid of Peeves. Harry even gave Tim a tour of the
Gryffindor common room: in the four weeks since Tim's arrival, they were fast
friends. Sirius was just like a
mischievous older brother, trotting around and occasionally appearing in his
human form, a smiling face with crinkling black eyes. Tim had been introduced to Hagrid, a few
more social centaurs, and all the professors.
He had a great liking for the tiny, humorous
Professor Flitwick, the Charms Professor, who taught him one of the more useful
charms he'd seen before—it was called True Sight. Flitwick's welcome to Hogwarts gift was
a pair of glasses (for, as Tim had discovered when he had first come to
Hogwarts, he was very nearsighted and needed glasses). These glasses functioned normally,
unless you hit a small button set into one side of the frame. Then you could see exactly what was real
and what was magical. Tim didn't
like the glasses, but he liked being able to see past Illusions and the
magically adjusted surroundings.
Reminded of the glasses, he flicked one side of the
rectangular frames and looked at the Hall.
Stripped of it's magic, the entrance was merely a big room, though not as
big as it first appeared, with a big silk rug in front of the door. (Tim had asked Dumbledore about this,
because it seemed rather a waste to have a huge, vastly expensive silk rug where
people would track mud all over it and ruin it. Dumbledore had smiled and replied "It's
a very ugly rug. That was the only
place we wanted it.") Tim tapped
his glasses again and the hall flickered back to it's normal, mysterious and
grand state.
"…Sorting will now commence," echoed Dumbledore's
voice from the front of the room.
Tim began to pace nervously. He knew what he'd have to do—Laura had
helped him rehearse. Go up to the
front of the room and onto the stage, sit on the stool, put on the hat. It was now occurring to him for the
first time that he would have to walk through all those people. He didn't know if he could do it—his
insides shriveled at the mere though of all those people, all looking at him and
whispering like they were now.
He also wondered what House he'd be in. Sure, his father and brother were in
Gryffindor, but his aunt and mother were Ravenclaw. He knew Harry would be disappointed if
he wasn't in Gryffindor, and Laura was probably crossing her fingers for
Ravenclaw. He didn't wan to think
about his other options: Slytherin meant total disgrace from his whole family,
Hufflepuff might be okay, but he really wanted to be in Gryffindor or
Ravenclaw. Preferably
Gryffindor. At least he knew
someone there.
Professor McGonagall poked her head out. "They're almost ready for you, boy. Good luck! And keep an ear open!" and she vanished,
back into the noisy, happy room.
Tim's stomach jerked, as though it were trying to
leap out and run away. Pressing his
ear against the solid wooden door, he listened to Dumbledore's voice ringing out
over the voices of the students as they greeted the newest members of their
Houses.
"And now, older students and new students, we must
keep the Sorting Hat out for just one more person. Unfortunately, Mr. Timothy Potter was
unable to attended Hogwarts for the first five years he was supposed to,
but"—whispers broke out. Standing
outside, Tim could here people asked each other "Potter?". His insides turned to lead.
"Ahem.
As I was saying, Mr. Potter will be Sorted now, into his house, where he
will be a sixth year. I hope you
all will do an exceptional job welcoming Tim into Hogwarts. Now, Mr. Potter, if you please?"
Tim pushed open the door a little so that he could
edge through it, closing it quietly behind him. A thousand students swiveled in their
seats, looking at him with polite interest. He could barely will himself to move,
but he did, keeping his eyes on the top platform, where Laura and Dumbledore
sat, smiling. Whispers flew back
and forth like little catapults showing him with sound.
"Look at his hair—d'you suppose he's another
Weasley?"
"Nah, they already have too many—what would posses
them to have another?"
"Handsome, isn't he?"
"Padma, leave the poor boy alone. You've got a boyfriend, I'd like to
remind you."
From another corner: "Potter? You don't suppose they're
related,"
"No, all his relatives were killed when he was."
Tim ground his teeth so hard it felt like his skull
was vibrating. The distance seemed
to stretch into miles and miles, with all the voices whispering inside his
head. Absent mindedly Tim tapped
the side of his glasses, switching to non-magical mode. Almost nothing changed, except for the
ceiling, which became instead just a dark bowl of marble high, high above his
head. He tapped them again, wanting
to see the weather. A midnight sky
sprinkled with stars. Not a
cloud. Nice weather.
He almost missed the stairs, but he climbed them, so
now he was above all the students.
He could see every face, turned on him, from palest to the darkest, thousands of eyes staring at him. A bizarre feeling over came him. It felt as though every set of eyes in
the room had become a beam of light, and every light was focused on him. Tim walked over to the stool, lifted the
hat, sat down, and slipped the hat over his eyes.
The immediate darkness was welcomed—now he could no
longer see the many, many faces.
I like your glasses.
Tim had been expecting this, but he still gave a
start at hearing this strange, whispering voice inside his ears.
Nice…Flitwick's work? I always said he should start selling
those to people, but he likes this job well enough. But hey, enough about him…let's talk
about you. You're a lot like
James—just like your brother, but there's one thing that separates you
two—you're by far smarter—he's braver.
So Harry's a Gryffindor.
That suits him—and I know you'd like it to suit you—but some twins just
don't think alike, and Tim, it's going to be RAVENCLAW!!
Tim slipped the hat off, aware of a tremendous
cheering making his ears ring, most of which came from the second table on the
left. Tim shakily stood, smiling
weakly, and trundled down the stairs.
He could see Harry at the next table over from his, looking disappointed,
but cheering anyway. He sank into
an empty seat, his legs feeling like rubber bands.
"Are you related to Harry Potter, per chance?"
Tim glanced at the girl across the table. She was short—about a head shorter than
him—and Asian, with dark, almond-shaped eyes and long, inky black hair. "Well, yes, I am actually," he said
rather hesitantly.
She smiled.
"I thought so. You look a
lot alike. My name's Cho Chang, and
I think you're going to like Ravenclaw."
A girl down the table snorted rudely. She was slender and quite beautiful,
except for the nasty expression on her face. Her hair was a glowing silvery-gold, her
eyes large and a vivid blue-green.
"How could anyone have fun in Ravenclaw with all these boys around?"
"Don't mind Lux," Cho whispered to him. "She's always been hassled about her
looks, so she kind of hates men."
Lux
snorted again, applying herself to the food set before her as if by eating it,
Tim and Cho would disappear too.
Tim served himself some lobster. The food here was very good—with an
amazing variety. "So," he began,
serving himself a bit of a strange fruit he'd never seen before "What's
Ravenclaw like?"
Cho rolled her eyes. "Well, our Quiddich team is awful this
year because all three of our Chasers and our best Beater graduated last
year."
"Do you play?" Tim asked with interest. He liked flying okay—Harry had let him
try out his Firebolt once.
"Seeker," Cho replied through a mouthful of
sprouts. "I'm Captain, but I don't
want to be. I'm not a good
leader. Plus I don't get all those
charts that our old captain left behind."
A flicker of sadness came over the pretty girl, and she sighed. "Cedric used to explain them to me last
year, that's why I didn't have any problems in my fifth year."
"Did he graduate?" Tim asked, picking apart a strange
pastry with his fork.
Cho looked down. "No. He'd didn't get the chance. He died a week before graduation."
Tim shifted uncomfortably. "I'm really sorry," he said
awkwardly.
"It's okay.
I'm almost used to saying it now," she said softly. "But I hope I never am." She shook her head, then changed the
subject. "Well, are you planning on
trying out for the Ravenclaw Quiddich team? God knows we need some new players…we
cam in last two years in a row…it was humiliating."
Tim swallowed.
"Well, I don't have a broom, and I've only flown one once or twice," he
said.
"Well, I was wondering, because your brother is—well,
he flies very well. I was just
wondering if it runs in your family—oh, speaking of which, is that your mother
up there?" she asked, pointing to Laura, who was holding an animated discussion
with Professor McGonagall.
Tim laughed.
"Oh, no. That's my
aunt. She's been taking care of me
since I was little."
Cho looked at him quizzically. "How did you come to be here? Why now?"
"It's a fair long story," Tim said, though he really
wouldn't mind telling Cho. She
seemed like a nice, genuine sort.
The girl rolled her eyes. "It's a fair long meal," she
replied. "Besides, ten-to-one
you'll see a lot of me. You'll find
time to finish later. Start now if
you like."
Tim smiled a little. "It all started on the day You-Know-Who
was maimed," he began.
***
Biana cowered under the onslaught of blows.
"He's alive?
Why isn't he dead?" the hissing voice raged, going from English to
Parseltounge and back. "WHY ISN"T
HE DEAD?"
"Master, master please—argh! I don't know!"
"OF COURSE YOU DON"T KNOW, YOU LAZY LIZARD!" he
shrieked, hitting her with the whip again and again. Biana cried out again as the metal
spikes drove deep into her scaly hide.
"Who is this boy, master?" she cried, cowering into a
ball, her blood running down her golden skin in scarlet streams. "I know not this boy!"
"The other.
The missing link. THEY HAVE
THE ADVANTAGE NOW, AND IT'S YOUR FAULT!"
He swung at the cowering Dreki again, but fell short. He planted a heavy kick in her ribs and
sent her flying against the wooden door.
"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU WORTHLESS SCALEY CREATURE!"
Biana slipped through the door, sobbing great,
tearless sobs. Her back surely was
flayed even of the meanest scrap of skin, her whole body oozed blood and
fluid. Halfway down the hall her
legs gave out and she collapsed, dragging herself with her arms forward, her
muscles burning at every inch forward.
She cried out again as a gash on her belly opened against the stone, bits
of gravel tearing the exposed muscle.
"Biana?
He beats you?" She looked up
from her pitiful position on the floor.
Severus Snape stood at his cell door. It was strange to see him so much taller
than her. "He did!" he said,
looking wonderingly at her. "Look
at you!"
Words, in any language, were beyond the lizard girl
now. She moaned, scratching at the
floor in a vain attempt to move.
"Ju?" she called. "JU!"
Severus crouched by the Dreki that had helped him
stay in the mortal realms for almost a week. "Should I try to get someone?"
Biana shook her head and pushed herself to a sitting
position just as someone knocked on the cell door. "Ju!" she cried in agony. "Come in, Ju!"
Ju was a skeletal creature. A shorter female Dreki of maybe only six
foot nine, she was icily beautiful.
Her skin was a crystal white, her hair was the same color and left down
to hang over her back. A flowing
dress the same pale blue as her slitted eyes swept the ground as she came and
knelt by Biana. Drawing a pouch
from the folds of her gown, she asked "He did this? What did you do?"
Biana turned over so that the healer could start with
the whip-marks on her back. "I did
nothing," she said, groaning against the bite of the medicine on her
scratches.
"He never whips for nothing," Ju added. "Bite on this." She handed a strip of leather to the
younger lizard-girl.
"He did today," Biana replied, then shrieked as Ju
drew a bone needle through her flesh.
Ju whacked her lightly on the back of the head. "I shouldn't be doing this, you
know. You probably deserved what
you got. I only treat you because I
owe you a debt. He catches me, then
debt or no I'll never treat you again."
Biana didn't say anything.
Drops of sweat rolled down her forehead as she ground her teeth and
moaned in pain as Ju neatly stitched up the worst of the lacerations. She dabbed a thick white ointment on the
cuts and bandaged it heavily. She
handed Biana a small jar as the girl got to her feet. "Drink this for the pain, and find
someone who can get you a dress to cover those. If he finds out…" Ju shuddered. "Biana, what did you do?"
"I'm telling you, I did nothing," she gasped, trying
to stand up. "He just came in and
started beating me."
Ju snorted.
"It is not fitting for the Dreki to lie," she said coldly. "Master is a good man. There must have been a reason." She turned in a swirl of blue skirts and
white hide and disappeared out the door.
Severus, forgotten until now, slid down to Biana's
eye-level. "I don't like her," he
said. "Not one bit."
Biana's hand moved to the pad she used to speak to
him. She's changed since HE came
into power. He adores her. She's one of our most
beautiful.
"Her voice is ugly," Snape replied. "And so is her manner."
Biana nodded wearily. She drank the potion and settled down,
not daring to rest her scarred back against the wall. Sleep came quickly, a release from the
pain.