You may thank Lady Ebony for the (relatively) swift arrival of this chapter. Nothing gets me wanting to write like a good dose of criticism. Incidentally, thank you for reminding me about the disclaimer – it was a foolish mistake to have made.
Chapter Four: Namecalling
The frowning woman gestured to Orla and her fellows sharply, then turned around and walked away quickly. Not sure of what else to do, Orla followed her, shooting nervous glances at Alexis and Jared every now and then. They were led through a long hall, their shoes loud on the flagstones, and into a small room off of the main hall. Orla could hear the voices of the older students faintly through the wall.
Still glaring as though they had personally offended her, the woman faced them again.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her steely stare saying the opposite. Her tone was bored, the greeting had the sound of something recited many times by rote. "I am Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, where you'll be spending the next seven years of your life learning the arts of wizardry and witchcraft. In a few moments, you'll enter the Great Hall for the Sorting.
"The Sorting is one of the most important events of your life at Hogwarts, for it will determine which of the four houses you will live with during your years here. The houses are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, and each has their own noble history."
Orla started at the names of the last two. She knew the houses and their history, of course, it would have been hard to escape it, brought up in a wizarding household as she had been, but she hadn't connected the two strange witches with the Hogwarts houses before.
"—and I'm sure that you'll be an honor to whichever house you join," McGonagall concluded. "Now, please form a line."
Orla absently fell into place between Alexis and Jared, more concerned with the mystery of the le Puff and 'Claw and their connection with the houses of Hogwarts. She wasn't particularly worried about the Sorting itself, Theo had briefed her on what to expect. Her friends weren't so lucky as to have an older wizard brother to allay their fears.
"What do you think's going to happen?" Alexis whispered nervously, her eyes wide beneath her bottle-bottom glasses.
"Will it hurt?" Jared asked with a gulp.
Orla shook her head.
"We just have to put on a hat," she said.
They stared at her in disbelief.
"It's true!" Orla whispered fiercely, trying not to draw the attention of the fierce McGonagall. "My brother told me." To her, this was all that was necessary to establish a fact as beyond doubt. Alexis and Jared weren't so comforted.
Further conversation was forestalled as McGonagall led them into the great hall. Prepared as she was for the sight, Orla still gasped at the bespelled ceiling, which glowed softly silver like the fog surrounding the castle. A few lonely stars shone through the thick mist.
The reentrance of Professor McGonagall, carrying with her the stool and Sorting Hat, drew Orla's attention back to Earth. She knew what to expect from the ceremony, unlike the unfortunate Muggle born, but she had worries that made mere ignorance pale beside them. Those with Muggle parents didn't have to worry about getting into the right house – Orla did. She quailed to think of Arane's reaction if she was placed in Hufflepuff or, dare she think it, Gryffindor. Le Puff's treatment of her would seem the tenderest of caresses if Orla failed to get into a proper house. Words, as Orla had learned to her detriment, could wound far more effectively than blows. She gulped.
She was shocked out of working herself into hysterics when a rip in the hat's brim opened and it began to sing.
Ten score and many years ago,
When I was newly made,
The founders of this school still lived –
Their legacy shall not fade.
There was sweet Helga of Hufflepuff,
Who loved those straight and loyal.
Of strong and faithful temperament
Are those of Hufflepuff's soil.
And fair Rowena Ravenclaw,
Of spirit both clever and wise.
Her chosen all know true from false,
Knowledge is their greatest prize.
Then Godric from good Gryffindor,
Whose kind are strong and proud.
No cruelty shall earn a Gryffindor's grace,
Their protests shall be loud.
Sleek Salazar Slytherin was the fourth,
Who chose those with ambition.
A Slytherin's cunning never fails,
Their drive knows no restriction.
They made me to tell you where to go,
To look into your mind.
So put me on, I'll sneak a peak,
And tell you what I find!
Orla clapped along with the rest of the crowd. Being all but tone deaf and unable to carry a tune if her life depended on it, she didn't care much one way or another for the hat's song. The rhyming had been nice though, she thought. She always had liked limericks. Alexis and Jared exchanged relieved looks over Orla's oblivious head.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, this time carrying a scroll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will step forward and put on the Sorting Hat," she said. "Altherson, Jason."
A nervous looking boy with a shock of white-blond hair hurried over to the stool and placed the hat on his head, where it fell down around his shoulders. A moment later, it screamed "GRYFFINDOR!" Smiling shakily, the boy took of the hat and half ran to his new table, where the Gryffindor crowd cheered and clapped. Orla gazed after him, curious. He didn't look very brave or chivalrous. She wondered if he really would speak out against any cruelty he saw.
"Andrews, Wilfred," McGonagall barked. Another boy stumbled forward, looking scarcely more collected than Altherson. The hat sat on his head for nearly a minute before it shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" Andrews went to join his house, looking relieved. Orla narrowed her eyes at his retreating back. He didn't look particularly loyal, or hard working. How strange.
After the first few, the novelty of watching the Sorting Hat work wore off quickly. Orla returned her attention to staring up at the enchanted ceiling and worrying about Arane's reaction.
At least, until McGonagall called on a "Brown, Samuel."
Nobody in the line moved. The hall of students fell silent.
"Brown, Samuel," McGonagall repeated.
Slowly, Jared stepped forward, his face a crimson vibrant enough to match his glasses. He walked over to McGonagall, ignoring the stares of the hundreds of students except for his unfading blush. Beside Orla, Alexis dissolved into a fit of oddly choked coughing.
McGonagall stared down at him, finally bending her head so that he could whisper.
"Actually it's…" Jared began, and that was all Orla could catch.
"I don't care what you think you name is, Mr. Brown," McGonagall snapped back. "I have listed here a Samuel Brown to be Sorted. If you are not he, then I would suggest that you return to your place in line."
For a moment, Orla thought that Jared, or Samuel, or whatever his name was, was going to strike out at the professor. He didn't, his blush never faded. He stalked over to the stool with all the offended dignity of a cat and rammed the Sorting Hat on his head.
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat yelled after a minute or two. Jared-Samuel snatched the hat off and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, his shoulders hunched.
Other than that, the Sorting went smoothly. If, that is, one exempted Orla's growing case of nerves. By the time Octagenatius, Ramona, and Periandrine, Sandrel were being Sorted, Orla felt like she was going to scream.
"Quirke, Orla," McGonagall called at last.
Propelled by a small push from Alexis, Orla staggered out of line before catching herself and walking over to the hat. She had to resist the urge to turn tail and flee back to the boats and over the lake. Mercifully, the Sorting Hat dropped over her eyes, blocking out the sight of all those awful, staring faces.
Hmm, a little voice said in her ear. At first she dismissed it as just her own thoughts, then she realized who it really was. Theo had told her about how the Sorting Hat spoke, she just hadn't realized that it said more than the names of the houses and the Sorting song.
Are you finished thinking yet? the voice said. I need to look through your mind, and it's harder to do when you're cogitating so actively. It sounded rather irritated.
Obediently, Orla concentrated on the splintery feel of the stool beneath her fingers while the hat's voice muttered in her ear.
Not brave enough for Gryffindor, won't work hard enough for Hufflepuff… No cunning, so Slytherin's out. It sighed, and she got the sense that it shook its head, for all that it didn't have one. Well, I guess that you're intelligent enough, it said doubtfully. Better go to RAVENCLAW!
Blinking at the sudden light as the hat was removed from her head, Orla made her way over to the Ravenclaw table. She was very careful not to sit next to Jared, whose scowling face and sullen silence had those by him inching away surreptitiously. The silvery patch on the breast of her robes had already shifted to show the bronze-and-blue of Ravenclaw. She looked around herself with interest and some trepidation, but relaxed at what she saw. Ravenclaw was supposedly for the quick witted, but the people at the table didn't look any brighter than the rest of the student body.
The rest of the Sorting passed quickly for Orla, who was too relieved that she'd gotten into a house that met with Arane's approval to pay attention to anything else. The only time she took note was when Professor McGonagall called "Rivers, Alexis" up. As soon as the hat touched the girl's head it shouted out "RAVENCLAW!" Somehow, Orla wasn't terribly surprised.
Alexis all but skipped over to the Ravenclaw table, still clutching her book. Her face glowed with pride.
"Isn't this exciting?" she whispered at Orla as she plopped down next to her. "Think of everything we'll learn here!"
"Er," said Orla. Learning wasn't her highest priority, keeping out of trouble was. She'd already had enough of the latter on the train to last her the whole school year.
More conversation was forestalled as an old, silver-haired wizard stood up. Orla recognized him as Albus Dumbledore only from the back of the Chocolate Frog cards she collected. Her family had never been terribly interested in politics.
"Welcome!" he boomed, smiling at them all. "Welcome to another—"
The fifth or sixth year boy on Orla's right yawned and leaned backwards, closing his eyes. Across the table, a pretty oriental girl and a tall boy were discussing quidditch moves quietly. A few seats away, another pair of students were playing hangman. Orla took her cue from them and tuned the headmaster out.
She must have fallen into a light doze, for she started slightly when the hall burst into applause for a shabby looking man at the high table.
"Who's he?" she asked Alexis while she clapped politely.
"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Alexis said. "Really, weren't you listening?"
'No' didn't seem a very good answer, so Orla settled for silence. Alexis didn't notice, she was too busy beaming around at all and sundry at the Ravenclaw table.
Another professor was introduced, the same loutish man who had directed them on the boats, and then the talking was mercifully done with. The golden plates in front of them filled with food, and Orla dug in with a will. The excitement of the train ride only served to sharpen her appetite.
She listened to Alexis with half an ear as she ate. Her friend – somehow, through some inexplicable process she seemed to have become friends with the girl, at least in title – had a very one track mind.
"Isn't it so exciting to be in Ravenclaw?" Alexis asked, her eyes shining, her mouth half full of potatoes.
"Hm," Orla said, paying more attention to the food on her plate.
Another minute passed. "Can you believe we got into Ravenclaw?" Alexis squeaked.
"Er," said Orla, trying to get a bit of toffee out from between her teeth.
All in all, she was most grateful when the food melted magically away from their plates and the Ravenclaw prefects stood up and called for the first years to follow them. There was only so much excited babble from Alexis that she could take.
They were led through a confusing twist of halls and staircases, all lined with a plethora of exceedingly talkative portraits. Most of the pictures in Orla's house were far too cowed by her aunt's presence to talk much. It was enough to turn even Orla's head, especially when the staircases began to shift around.
The prefects seemed to know where they were going, and at last they arrived in the library. Or at least, Orla assumed it was the library. It might have been all the books that led her to that assumption. The prefects stopped them in front of the S-U section of magizoology.
"This is the door to your common room," the female prefect announced. "If you forget where it is, just ask Madame Pince, the librarian. The password will be 'Polaris'. If you forget that, you're stuck outside until one of your housemates comes along. But you're Ravenclaws, right? You're supposed to have good memories." There was a small rustle of nervous laughter from all except for Alexis, who nodded fervently. Orla shook her head, despairing of her friend.
Turning to the bookcase, the prefect once again said the password. The bookcase slid downwards, until only its first inch or two stood upwards, providing the first stair to an upwards spiraling staircase.
Orla's mouth fell open as she looked at the tower. She could have sworn that there wasn't room for a staircase inside the bookshelf. It wasn't against a wall, and the aisle behind it had looked perfectly normal, from what she had seen as they'd walked passed. Raised among wizarding parents, she only gaped unbelievingly at the stairs before shrugging, accepting, and beginning to climb.
They climbed until Orla's calves were screaming with the effort. Her stomach weighed heavily in her body from all of the food she'd eaten at the feast. She was at the point of sitting down and demanding a rest stop when they emerged from a hole in the floor into the Ravenclaw common room.
"Welcome," the female prefect said, gesturing grandly around the room, "to the Rookery."