I might look like a hat to you,
And outside I may be.
But put me on your noggin,
And in your skull I'll see.
I'll look for different qualities,
The ones inside your head.
Like things in youth you used to do,
And books you may have read.
I may place you in Gryffindor,
Where are the bold and fair.
Not always truths, not always lies,
About your friends you care.
Perhaps you'll sit in Slytherin,
Wily, like your kind.
Anything to get your goal,
True powers you will find.
Next is loyal Hufflepuff,
A companion 'till the end.
Your open heart to one and all,
Helps love and friendships mend.
Last, not least, is Ravenclaw,
For knowledge is your power.
The brains, the smarts, the wisdom here,
Builds learning into towers.
These four houses, none the same,
Must unite and become one.
To save this school, our treasures deep,
Until bad times are done.
As the entire school let out a collective breath, applause began. Everyone, from the staff up on the dais down to the scrawny second years, clapped, whistled and yelled their heads off. This continued for what seemed like hours, as the hat smiled smugly at the school.
Finally, the aged man on the podium cleared his throat softly. At the sound, the approbation quieted down slowly and students shifted back in their seats.
Sabra nudged softly in Mheera's side. "Who's he?" she whispered.
"Albus Dumbledore," the girl whispered back. "Now shush."
Sabra nodded and stood up straight. Hamoreh Dumbledore gave a small smile, then began, as if he had been waiting for her.
"It's another year here at Hogwarts, and these children are our future. Though there was a calamity this summer. Israel's AkibaAcademy of Magic closed this summer due to too many students dropping out, along with schools in Russia, Japan and Egypt." He paused, seemingly to wipe a tear from his eyes, then continued. "There is, however, some good news along with the bad. A student from Akiba is entering our own fine academy. Sabra Levi will be joining our sixth years."
Sabra felt all the eyes of the school change their focus from the professor to her. A blush spread across her face and neck, overpowering the dark skin and turning her bright red. She looked helplessly down as whispers spread across the room and pointing fingers zoned in.
The professor continued, as if not noticing the action in front of him. "Now, if there is no more early news, let the sorting begin!" Applause spread across the room again, this time stopping short as Professor McGonagall unrolled a parchment and began reading in her clipped, precise voice.
"Abdury, Megan!" A short girl with pigtails walked slowly out, clearly regretting her last name, and gingerly picked the hat up. She sat on the stool and tentatively placed it on her head. There was silence for a moment, then the hat opened its mouth and yelled out "HUFFLEPUFF!" The table farthest to the right erupted into applause as Megan placed the hat back on the stool and walked eagerly down the stairs and to the table, where she was quickly seated by helping hands.
The professor continued. "Attem, Jack!" The boy on the right of Sabra trotted out and sat on the stool. The hat had barely touched his head before it shouted out "RAVENCLAW!"
Casanova, Michel ended up in Ravenclaw as well. Then McGonagall read out the next name. "Dougherty, Alison!" Allie gave Sabra's hand a quick tug, then let go. She walked slowly out to the stool and picked up the tattered black hat. Sitting on the stool, she placed the hat on her head, covering up her deep read hair. The entire room seemed to hold its breath for a moment as the hat contemplated, then it opened its rip and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Allie slumped in the stool for a moment, then took the hat off, her face showing her obvious relief. The table second to the right burst into clapping, yelling and screaming as Allie walked down the steps to her house.
Most of the rest of the names passed Sabra in a blur, though with one boy, Evans, Mark, the sorting hat sat on his head for almost two minutes before shouting out its decision. (HUFFLEPUFF!)
Mheera was the fourth to be placed in Slytherin, and as she walked confidently down the stairs, she gave Sabra a small wave.
Finally, Sabra refocused her eyes and snapped out of her thinking. She looked around and realized that there was only one person left in line with her. "Zabini, Vincent," the professor called out.
The boy walked confidently out and placed the hat on his head. It sat for a moment, then shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" There was silence, and Sabra could see most of the school exchanging glances.
Then a boy from Slytherin, who looked much like Vincent, began clapping. Soon the Slytherin table was in applause and it spread to the rest of the school, including Gryffindor. Vincent dropped his horrified look and even began smiling a bit as he walked to his table, though he kept shooting worried glances to the boy at the Slytherin table.
Then Sabra was the only one left; standing alone on the dais, she could see all eyes on her and she nervously smoothed her skirt down.
Professor McGonagall rolled up the long list in her hand and stored it in some hidden pocket of her emerald green robes. Then, reaching into a pocket on the other side, she pulled out another list, seemingly of the same length when she unrolled it.
"Levi, Sabra." she said clearly.
At her name, the chatter rose up again. The whispering was so loud she felt she would be borne away in it. When the staring began, she wished it would. Sabra gave her skirt one last pat, and took the few steps to the stool, needing to will each foot to lift and drop.
Finally she reached the stool. She spent a few moments looking at the wood, at the fine grain and the dark legs, doing anything to avoid looking at the hat. She believed there was nothing else in her life she had ever dreaded so much.
When the grumbles of the rest of the school grew, Sabra quickly picked up the hat, sat down and placed it on her head, before her treacherous heart could order her not to. There was silence for a moment, then a loud "ACHOO!"
Giggles sounded from the listeners and Sabra realized what had happened. The flour that the poltergeist dropped on her head was still there, and it made the hat sneeze. Then she forgot all about it when a voice spoke inside her head!
"Another one!" It exclaimed. It was the hat. "I know where to put you! Just with all the others of your kind!"
'My kind?' she thought nervously.
"Yes. You're a learning mind, a think, oh! Something here! In the back of your head! Oh; well this changes everything!"
'What? What is it?' But it refused to tell.
"There's no changing what's in your head. Well with that, you'll be perfect in…GRYFFINDOR!"
Sabra didn't expect the voice to be so loud. She squeaked and jerked backward in surprise, pulling herself into a fall. Some cool part of her brain wind-milled furiously at the air, trying to regain her balance, but instead she just fell faster.
CLUNK! She landed on the floor at the same time as the wooden stool, making the loudest sound (Other then the hat's voice) she could think of. Struggling to her feet, she pushed the large floppy hat off her eyes and carefully bent down to pick the stool up. When they saw she was alright, and not hurt, a laugh sounded from the Slytherin table. Soon the entire school, including the staff table, was laughing uproariously.
She carefully took the hat off, and with a whispered 'sorry,' placed it back on the stool. There was no way her blush could be mistaken for anything but as she climbed down the stairs.
A wriggle in her pocket proved that the fall had not gone totally unnoticed by her pet, and she prayed that Zion would hold on only a bit longer.
Reaching the still-laughing table, she walked all the way to the end, attempting to ignore the laughing students in red and gold. At the end, she found Allie barely containing her giggles.
As she lifted her robes and skirt and stepped over the bench, Allie calmed down enough to hold out her hand for balance and casually remarked as she stepped in, "Was that rehearsed or last second improvisation? Perfect fall; couldn't have done it better myself.
"Couldn't have done it at all," Sabra shot back airily, attempting to regain as much dignity as possible.
"That was brilliant!" A slightly chubby boy with black hair leaned forward across the table. "You know, I don't think in three centuries anyone's ever fallen off the sorting stool!"
"Toda rabah," she said sarcastically. "I just had to know that."
His face scrunched up. "What does that mean? And what language is it?"
"Oh! Sorry! I said thank you very much, and it was in Hebrew. I come from-"
"Israel, we know! But the way they're carrying on, it might as well be the moon!" A head of carrot red hair fell into her view as a hand grabbed a goblet in the middle of the table. Sabra leaned back and saw, behind the hair, a pair of twinkling blue eyes.
The girl sat back down and placed the goblet in front of her plate, along with three others. Sabra didn't ask.
"Hi," the boy across the table said, sticking his hand out to hang over the table. "I'm Neville Longbottom."
She grinned in return and shook his hand. "No need to tell you my name; I am sure that every person knows it by now."
The red-head took her hand before she could draw it back, and shook it firmly. "Ginny Weasley."
Sabra gaped at her. "Weasley!"
"Yeah. Wait, wait. Let me guess. You already met one of my brothers."
She nodded faintly. "Yes. Ron. He's the one that hangs out with Harry Potter."
"Oh, you've already met Harry then. He and Ron have been mates since the first day here. I'm wondering what's happening. You know," she said, putting one hand up to cover the side of her mouth. "Ron hasn't ever shown interest in a girl since he needed a date for the Yule Ball."
Sabra giggled along with Ginny and Allie, who sitting on the other side of her, had heard every word.
"Oh, hello!" Ginny said. "I'm glad you're finally here!"
"Finally?" Allie asked. "I don't know you…do I?"
"Oh, no! Not really. But you're mum works in the ministry and my dad said that soon there'll be a girl with red hair. Now I won't be called Red anymore!"
"Oh? Why not? Your hair hasn't changed colour, has it?"
"No, not really. But the Red thing? That's for the youngest redhead. Emilie in Ravenclaw had red hair, but she isn't Red anymore, and neither is Alessandra."
"Oh."
"You know," Neville said suddenly, and in all seriousness. "If you really don't like the red hair, I can always change it for you."
"No!" shouted Allie, Sabra and Ginny.
A boy in front of them turned around and gave them a dark look. "Shhh. Dumbledore's about to talk again."
They immediately quieted and turned their gaze to the dais, where Dumbledore was, in fact, standing at the podium again. He smiled brightly at the sea of young wizards; occasionally twitching his long nose as he waited for absolute silence.
He didn't have to wait long. Soon the only noise was the loud coughing of a Hufflepuff, but he was quickly silenced by several well-aimed spells.
"I would just like to say," he began, beaming at them. "To each and every one of you. Something you must remember tonight. Enjoy! That is all." He sat back down.
Sabra turned back around, with as much confusion on her face as most of the first years, to Ginny; about to ask what in the earth was going on, when she stopped.
The tables were laden with more food then she would have thought was possible to be held. Meats, cheeses, pastries, breads, soups and drinks. Ginny was casually placing potatoes on her plate and filling up each of the four goblets with a different kind of beverage. Pumpkin juice in one, cold tea in the next, boot rear in the third (Sabra had tried it once, but didn't enjoy being kicked by an unseen foot.) and a pale green juice in the last.
She looked at all the wonderful foods as Ginny held out a steak to her. "Pork chops, Sabra?"
Sabra shook her head. "I don't eat pork."
"What?" Neville said, pausing in his feasting. "Not eat pork! How can you do that!"
"I just don't," she said calmly, then reached into her back for a second parchment with instructions. Carefully sliding her fingernail under the wax seal, she broke it open. Inside were more words.
Pick a meal, it said. But don't forget to wand it.
Sabra shook her head as a glimmer of knowledge seeped in. Understanding what to do, she couldn't believe it was set up that way. She took her wand out of her pocket with her left hand, while carefully placing the parchment back in her side-bag.
Pointing the wand at the golden plate in front of her, she moved it in a circle and said clearly, "Fleyshik!"
The plate vanished and was replaced by a blue china plate with a white 'fey' in the middle. Four or five of the meat dishes in front of her were replaced by almost identical ones, though they were in blue dishes as well; her silverware and goblet became shiny metal with blue designs on them.
Sabra grinned at the cleverness of it all. Now she could eat as well, though only from the kosher dishes. She helped herself to chicken and lamb, and found milk-less devilled eggs on a blue plate to the right of Allie.
Both redheads and Neville, along with the boy who had told them to shush stared at her in amazement.
"What was that?" Allie asked. "Raven didn't say anything about changing food!"
"Oh," Sabra said around a mouthful of squash as she poured herself some pumpkin juice. "I can't eat your food so my em-I mean, my mother arranged for separate food. It's not that there's anything wrong with it, I'm just Jewish.
"Isn't that the Satanic religion?" Neville asked seriously.
"Actually," Sabra said, swallowing with difficulty. "To us, you guys are the Satanists."
They stared at her, speechless.
"I was only joking!" she said. They still stared. "Joke? As in ha ha?"
"Ha ha," Ginny said weakly.
"Jews are basically like Christians, except we don't believe that Jesus Christ was the Meshia." She took a gulp from her goblet, then continued. "You have an Old Testament, right?" They nodded. "Well that is our only testament. We call it the Torah."
"What does Meshia mean?" Neville asked, looking at her slightly nervously.
"It is what you call the Messiah." Sabra answered. "We don't believe that Christ was the son of Hashem."
"Hashem?" Allie bit her lip in confusion, but was beginning to seem more comfortable.
Sabra pointed up. "We do not use His name in vain, so we use Hashem as a substitute. Will you pass me the cold tea?" She pointed to the pitcher, its sides beaded with condensation. Ginny nodded absently and passed it to her.
"So Jews are like Christians except you're only working out of the Old Testament?"
Sabra nodded. "I'm sure Jesus was a great man, and one of the prophets," she said, pouring herself the tea in her newly emptied goblet. "He just isn't the son of Hashem."
The stared at her for a moment more, then nodded their comprehension.
"Oh, one more thing," Sabra said, cutting up a piece of chicken. "You do realize that not one of you have eaten anything since the meal began?" They gaped soundlessly at her for a second, then turned back to their plates and began animatedly digging in.
"You know Sabra," Neville said through a mouthful of lentil stew. "With you here, there's no way we're ever going to get bored.
A/N
I know this chapter is REALLY short, but I thought that was a fantastic place to end it. Missy, I'm not going on the ski trip anyway b/c no one I called was. Oh well, see you this summer. Hey people. Guess what. Missy is the ONLY person who reviewed. Cookies and recognition for all who do.
(Chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, Brownie topping, and for those who actually say something, I'll make it 'a la mode.') I do like reviews. It makes me feel like people are reading this, and I shouldn't quit. (Hint hint) Make me feel happy, please?
On another note: This fic is coming out faster b/c I'm doing it for school, just I happened to add a bit. So my parents were easily convinced that I can write it even though I'm not allowed on the computer.