Chapter Seven: The Sorting Feast

Serpents in my mind
Looking for your crimes
Everything changes
I don't want mine to this time

– "Serpents," Sharon Van Etten

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The following morning, Luna woke before dawn and dressed in her uniform and robes. She had been planning on sleeping in as long as possible, seeing as the other students would not be arriving until evening, but a particularly nasty nightmare had jolted her awake and she hadn't really had the courage to go back to sleep after that.

She stopped by the Great Hall briefly, but as it was empty and the house-elves were evidently still asleep, she decided not to bother them. Instead, she obtained permission from Dumbledore (who was also awake) to go up to Gryffindor Tower and collect Ron's things from the boys' dormitory. By the time she had managed to squeeze his trunk back into Hermione's bag — she could have used magic to shrink it, but oddly felt like doing it the hard way — it was nearly noon, and she returned to the Great Hall to have some lunch. When she saw that the elves had provided her with pudding, she was unable to stop the smile that touched her face.

After she finished eating, Luna still had several hours to kill until the Sorting Feast, and her normally cool head was uncharacteristically buzzing with nerves. She thought she might have a few Wrackspurts, but she'd forgotten her Spectrespecs at home before returning for sixth year, and her normal enhanced perception of elusive magical creatures had remained significantly diminished since her arrival in 1943.

To calm herself, she ventured once again into the Forbidden Forest, running her hands carefully over leaves and twigs, and missing the feeling of earth under her feet. The Thestrals had probably already been led out of the forest by the gamekeeper and would be getting harnessed to the carriages in an hour or so to drive out to Hogsmeade Station, so there was no chance of her getting any more time with them until tomorrow. Her mind somehow both cavernously empty and whirling with activity, Luna wandered the forest without paying much attention to where she was going. She came close to entering what Harry and Ron had told her was Aragog's territory and changed direction once she noticed, but in her absent meandering she did happen accidentally to stumble into another dangerous part of the forest, which she discovered when she stepped on a twig and heard the creaking noise of a bow being drawn.

"Those of my colony do not make a habit of harming young ones," said a deep voice to her left, "but the children at the castle have not yet arrived. Tell me why you are here, on our lands, without invitation."

Luna turned around to face a tall, handsome, long-haired centaur with bright dark eyes and a glossy black coat. He was pointing his arrow directly at her head, but lowered it instantly when he met her eyes. To Luna's surprise, she saw understanding light his gaze.

"Who are you?" he murmured in a quieter and far less hostile tone. "Are there not laws among your people, that those out of time should avoid being seen? Why are you here?"

"How do you know that I'm a time-traveller?" Luna inquired curiously, peering at him through her pale eyelashes. She noticed upon closer inspection that there was some silver in his hair, just above his long and pointed ears, and that his face was somewhat craggier than she had originally thought.

"We centaurs are known for our clear-sightedness," said the other, a little snobbishly. "The future makes itself known to us, playing out slowly in the stars and in the eddies of the air, in a way that it does not for your people." He squinted at her. "But you… around you it circles oddly in a way I have not seen before. The patterns are strange, unclear." Then he shook his head, and the mass of dark hair tumbled around his shoulders. "I have glimpsed one of your kind using one of your time-travelling devices, only once, but it was nothing like this."

Luna's eyes drifted away from him. "I am here for a purpose, although I wandered into your territory by accident." She glanced back to meet his gaze again. "I do apologise for that, sir — ?"

"Solarn," the centaur supplied, looking at her intently, his heavy eyebrows coming together. "Not 'sir.' Your infringement is pardoned."

"Thank you." She paused a moment, noting that what she could see of the sky, beyond the trees, was beginning to darken. "There is a boy in this time who will grow into a very powerful Dark Wizard. In about half a century, he will launch an attack on this castle. Many suffered — will suffer, because of him. Some of your people have been killed in the fighting, as well."

"We do not interfere in human affairs," retorted Solarn, disbelieving.

"You didn't, at first," said Luna, her voice soft. "Well, one of you did. Firenze. He was teaching at the school when the attacks took place. The rest of you didn't… come around… until after he was injured."

Solarn recoiled. "Firenze?" he demanded in a hiss. "Impossible. I do not believe it."

She looked at him, brows high. "Is he here now, in the forest?"

"We will not harm children, but you are not as young as most in the castle, and we do not suffer liars," snarled the centaur, his arm tensing as he gripped the arrow in his hand. "You should leave, human."

"I'm sorry to have offended you," Luna said politely, hiding her mild annoyance, then bowed slightly — a gesture appreciated, although not often used, by centaurs — and took her leave, walking off in the direction she had come. It was time and past to be heading back to the castle anyway; she heard the faint sounds of the train in the distance, the rattling of the wheels on the tracks and the high, piercing whistle.

It was once again much later than she had anticipated when Luna at last exited the forest and arrived back at the castle. A steady stream of students was already forming between the carriages and the entrance to the school, and the first years looked to be about halfway across the lake, the lanterns of their boats reflecting brightly off the dark water. Luna made her way into the Great Hall and surveyed the turnout so far; all of the professors, including Professor Slughorn and Professor Dumbledore, were seated at the high table, save one empty seat at the end which Luna presumed was to be saved for whichever teacher had the duty of directing the first years into the Sorting Ceremony. A few unfamiliar faces caught her eye; there was a small, dark-skinned woman with a bright smile on her lips chatting with Professor Slughorn, a heavyset man with curly salt-and-pepper hair and spectacles who kept glancing at the entrance to the hall, and a cheerful-looking fellow with dimples and an uneven tan trading goblets with a willowy, gaunt-faced woman with blazing red hair. Armando Dippet, the elderly Headmaster, sat with an impressive kind of silent dignity (which, in Luna's eyes, nevertheless failed to match that of Dumbledore) at the centre of the table.

Luna cast an eye toward the Slytherin table, noting with some relief that only a few students were seated there, and they were clustered around one end of the table. In another time, she might perhaps have asked to sit with them, and tried her best to make friends. At this moment, however, Luna was feeling uncharacteristically raw and vulnerable without Ron's comforting presence nearby, and she did not feel up to introducing herself to people who would likely be inclined to mock her for many of her habits and beliefs. Heart in her throat, she quickly made for the other end of the table and sat down, ignoring the curious glances of the other students as they noticed her unfamiliar face. She barely looked up at all as the Great Hall filled with students, and kept her gaze trained on the table during the Sorting Ceremony, which — she saw from her sole glance toward the front during the whole process — was led by a slim, aquiline-nosed male professor with shoulder-length silver hair. A number of the surnames she heard over the course of the ceremony were familiar, but none of the first names were. Luna felt another pang of loss and then shook herself, trying to steel her nerves. This was not the time for drifting away in her emotions; no matter how she felt, she had to exert some control over her thoughts for once. Her mind was vast and nebulous, and she knew that it possessed the capacity for the same kind of intense, sharp concentration that Hermione demonstrated on a regular basis. She did her best to summon that singleminded focus, that clarity of thought which had come to her that night in the Department of Mysteries during the battle with the Death Eaters and had stayed at the back of her mind through all of Voldemort's attacks on the school. She came to attention just as the last student, a Malcolm Zellinger, was Sorted into Ravenclaw and Professor Dippet came forward to speak before the start of the feast. She saw him cast a muttered Sonorous Charm, wand at his throat, before he began.

"Hello again to you all," he said, and she could see why the charm had been necessary; his voice, even twenty-odd years before his death, was so weak that it was barely a whisper. "I don't wish to delay our supper very long, as I am sure you are all as famished as I am." His lips, hidden in his well-trimmed white beard, cracked in a brief smile, and some of the students laughed politely at the non-joke. Despite his relative lack of presence compared to her old Headmaster — who, ironically, was sitting mere feet away from where Dippet stood — there was warmth in his gaze as he looked out at the students, and Luna found herself likening him in her mind to the white-bearded Dumbledore of her memory.

"I am pleased to announce, however," Dippet was continuing, "that we have a new transfer student in our midst, joining Slytherin house for her sixth year of magical instruction — a Miss Luna Lovegood. If you'd stand, please, Miss Lovegood."

Luna did so and met Dippet's eyes with a brief nod. His eyes crinkled in an answering smile, and she sat back down as the Great Hall erupted into whispers and muttered reactions. She glanced around briefly and found that many of the Slytherins were looking at her. To her relief, she found that being the centre of attention did not bother her any more than it had ever done, and she was able to manage a small smile at those who made eye contact before turning back to Professor Dippet, who had just cleared his throat.

"Yes, yes, very glad to have you, I'm sure," he added abstractedly. "Now — I must make known to you all your student authorities for the coming year. Our Head Boy and Girl are — if each of you would stand, please — Sofia Hopkirk of Ravenclaw, and Abraxas Malfoy of Slytherin house." Luna looked up, recognising immediately the long white hair typical of the Malfoy line and the same angular hatchet-face that belonged to Lucius Malfoy and his son Draco. Sofia Hopkirk, the Head Girl, was looking over at him as well, a clear expression of dislike written on her elfin features. Dippet continued talking, and Malfoy sat immediately, looking bored. His counterpart hesitated briefly before following suit.

"The Gryffindor prefects are — " Dippet glanced down at a bit of parchment in front of him. "Zacharias Balser, Yancy Bulstrode, Heather Makepeace, Vivian Olstead, Everett Weasley, and Euphemia Crinsey-Abbott." Each of the prefects stood, and Luna's gaze lingered on the round-faced, quiet-looking boy with bright red hair who had been sitting next to the girl called Euphemia. His robes had a shabby quality to them, and looked rather too small for him, as he seemed to possess the same tall, slight build as Ron's father Arthur. She felt her heart twist looking at him and wondered if, now that Ron wasn't here, it might be safe to try and talk to him.

A hushed, annoyed whisper from the Ravenclaw table behind her drifted to her ears. "Why does he repeat them all every year?" an older female student was complaining. "It's not as though any of them would ever let us forget…"

"Slytherin prefects," Dippet went on, "excluding Mr. Malfoy, of course, are — let me see — " He squinted at the parchment again. "Walburga Black, Percival Nott, Cecily Harlowe, Edith Selwyn, and Tom Riddle."

At this Luna stopped listening and turned her attention toward the Slytherin table, where the last of the prefects was rising to join the other four. Dippet could not have timed it more dramatically if he'd tried.

Tom Riddle had been sitting about as close to the head of the table as it was possible to be, and a sort of bizarre court of Slytherin cronies had formed around where he sat, even though many of the students in it were obviously older than he was. Luna spared them hardly a glance, however, unable to stop her eyes from being drawn, almost magnetically, to the ruler himself.

Looking at him was a strange and disorienting experience. Luna had known, from a purely logical standpoint, that Tom Riddle was unlikely to have looked anything like Lord Voldemort in his school days. Persistently, however, whenever she had thought of "Riddle," what came to her mind was always that horribly pale, warped, serpentine nightmare of a face, and the tall, black-cloaked frame of what had once been an adult man. She had had no concept of his appearance as a sixteen-year-old, as nearly all photographic evidence of him that had remained in the school had been destroyed after his fall from power, mostly by angry students who had lost parents or other family to the Death Eaters.

The young man — boy, really — who was now standing in the Great Hall looked for all the world like an innocent, a victim, someone who might once have been the helpless target of a schoolyard bully. His face was not cruel or harsh-featured, but instead looked startlingly boyish, and had rather a gentle, unassuming quality to it. He was of moderate height and slender build, with pale skin, softly curving plush lips, a perfect snub nose, and long-lashed, sharply intelligent green eyes which — the thought rose unbidden to Luna's mind — would not have looked out of place on a particularly pretty girl. His appearance, it occurred to her after a moment, seemed to have long left behind the common and mundane descriptor of strikingly handsome and was now dwelling comfortably in the realm of the uncannily beautiful. To Luna, it was both jarring and strangely fitting; she had known of his famous charm which he had used to expertly manipulate professors and students alike, and it made sense that part of this should come from his looks, although the realisation that he and the awful snake-man were the same person was still a shock to her.

He turned to mutter a word to one of his fellow prefects — Nott? — and as soon as his face moved, the image of gentleness vanished before her eyes. There was a distinct coldness to his manner, the way the expressions formed on his face, as if he had to pause to put on a mask. She could not hear his voice, but if it was anything like the one she remembered, it would likely give the same impression.

Abruptly his eyes moved to her, as he had apparently noticed her not-very-surreptitious stare. Luna felt an icy jolt in the pit of her stomach as a mix of horror, apprehension and fascinated curiosity shot through her. The green eyes narrowed slightly and the fine dark brows drew together as he regarded her, and Luna blinked and looked away, focusing on the table in front of her as Dippet continued listing off the prefects for the other houses.

"Um — hello," said the quiet voice of a girl to her right, and Luna gratefully turned toward her before realising that the girl was standing and looking up at her face. She had blonde hair a few shades off from Luna's own colour, and was rather pretty, in a bland sort of way.

"You're one of the prefects for Slytherin, aren't you?" said Luna in what she hoped was a friendly tone. The girl smiled at her.

"Yes, I'm Cecily. Harlowe," she added belatedly, still talking under Dippet. "You're Luna Lovegood, right? It's lovely to meet you. Slytherin hardly ever gets transfer students… not that we have very many here at Hogwarts to begin with…" she trailed off, obviously hoping that Luna would fill in the blanks about why she was there.

"My situation is a bit unique," said Luna simply, wondering how many lies she would have to tell to navigate this conversation. "I was home-schooled," lie, "but my father died recently, and my mother was killed in an accident years ago." This was true. "They were both Slytherins, so Professor Dippet agreed to put me in their house, since we both thought I'd fit in best here." The most outrageous of lies, and it put a bad taste in Luna's mouth although it had slipped out easily. Any Lovegood, even her grandfather, would have been miserable in Slytherin. Her mother had apparently received a comment from the Hat about her impressive ambitions in the field of spell creation, but as it ultimately judged this to be an intellectual pursuit she was sent to Ravenclaw. Xenophilius, her father, had been a proud Hufflepuff.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," exclaimed Cecily, looking appropriately sympathetic. Dippet was apparently finished speaking and she sat down, along with the other prefects. "Well, not to worry. We Slytherins take care of our own. You're certain to find a home here." She patted Luna's hand comfortingly.

Inwardly, Luna was somewhat torn. The girl was blatantly artificial, obviously considering friendliness towards new students to be part of her duties as a prefect despite perhaps not being personally inclined to such shows of warmth. However, there was a certain quirkiness about her manner, lying beneath the glossy veneer of tepid cordiality, which resonated with Luna's own offbeat personality. Perhaps Cecily was just awkward, and had to hide her real reactions behind play-acting like this.

Whatever the case, Luna decided, it would be no use flatly rejecting a display of friendship. She smiled back at Cecily and thanked her. "It's lovely to meet someone so friendly straightaway," she added cannily, fixing her face with a vague smile. She noted that Cecily's touched expression faded into one of satisfaction rather more quickly than the other girl appeared to realise.

A moment later, the empty platters in front of them filled abruptly with food, and Luna helped herself to some roast duck and a generous helping of braised potatoes. As Cecily served herself, she leaned over and murmured, "I saw you looking at Riddle." Luna glanced at her, startled, but Cecily made a dismissive face. "You're definitely not alone," she said with a laugh. "He's gorgeous, isn't he? Slytherin's Golden Boy, the other houses call him. Top marks in every subject, and charming as can be." Her smile dimpled, then faded slightly. "I don't know, though. The way the others idolise him… it seems to me like they go a little overboard. It's a bit creepy, actually," she added as an afterthought.

"You have no idea," Luna muttered, a little louder than she meant to. What remained of Cecily's smile dropped off her face.

"Pardon?"

"Just talking to myself," Luna said airily. "Sorry, I do tend to do that sometimes."

"No problem at all," Cecily assured her, although she still looked faintly perturbed. "Um — do you know him? Riddle? Did you… live near him, or something?"

Luna raised her eyebrows and looked at Cecily, eyes wide. "What? No, I've never met him before." This was technically true; while Luna had certainly seen Voldemort and heard his voice multiple times, she had never interacted directly with him herself, not even when she had been captured and imprisoned in the Malfoys' dungeon with Mr. Ollivander.

Cecily looked slightly more mollified at Luna's guileless expression, and turned her attention to her food briefly before speaking again. Luna took the opportunity to take a few bites of duck, although she found her appetite to be rather smaller than usual that evening.

"So — you said your parents were Slytherins?" Cecily went on after swallowing a mouthful of food.

"Yes," Luna replied, careful to avoid blinking or touching her hair or looking to the side or any other easy giveaway of a lie. She was usually able to tell when people were being disingenuous without relying on such obvious tricks, but she typically found that others were less perceptive and tended to accept small falsehoods easily as long as she wasn't too shifty during the actual act of lying. She rarely took advantage of this knowledge, finding intentional mistruth to be repugnant, but sometimes it was necessary, as now.

"I only ask because you seem the thoughtful sort. Dreamy types like you are usually happier in Ravenclaw." Cecily said this without any hint of suspicion, merely noting it as a point of interest. "I understand wanting to be in your parents' house, but… I've got to be honest, Slytherins can be a little meaner than the other houses sometimes. When somebody doesn't measure up, everybody gangs up on them and it isn't pretty." She frowned, looking concerned.

Luna realised that Cecily had abandoned the cheap and easy façade of friendliness in favour of an honest evaluation of Luna's circumstances, and was briefly touched. Cecily obviously couldn't have realised that Ravenclaw students were the ones who had actually given Luna the most trouble about her various oddities over the years, and that every house was more or less equal-opportunity in the area of bullying; nevertheless, Luna appreciated that Cecily could speak candidly about her house to a stranger, at least after she had ceased the painfully artificial welcome-committee routine and decided — likely on a whim — that Luna was someone worth looking after.

Luna favoured her new friend with a slow, bright smile. "I understand, and thank you. But believe me, Slytherin is where I should be."

Cecily shrugged. "If you say so. Just don't say I didn't warn you when the ones on that end of the table start practising their jinxes on your pets." She jerked her head in Riddle's direction.

"Haven't got any pets," said Luna primly. "They don't really fit into my lifestyle very well."

The other girl shot her a look. "You know what I mean," but her dimples were showing again, and a moment later her hazel eyes crinkled in amusement. "You're a cool one, aren't you? Don't look the slightest bit nervous. Maybe you'll do all right in Slytherin after all."

Luna met her eyes with a grin, and both of them broke out in quiet laughter. Evidently her naturally reserved demeanour was paying off.

Without warning, Luna felt a sudden icy sensation go up her spine. As she looked at her plate, she imagined she could see long shadows coming up from behind her and reaching over the table. Her smile froze, then faded into what she hoped was a sufficiently bland expression.

"I trust you're making our newcomer feel at home, Cecily?" came a light, pleasant tenor from behind them.