Chapter 2: Sorted

Jones

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Our mantle has a large picture of the whole carnival taken just before my parents met. On the far left is Henry Smithson, the manager, and his wife Laura. Bobby Jones, the strong man, is holding Mom, curled into a ball, above his head with one hand. In this particular snapshot, Dad is looking up at her amorously. My siblings love that picture. I hate it.

When my older sister was born, they thought they could stay with the caravan, but when I was born they knew they had to leave. They love to tell stories of their time on the road. Mom says it was some of the best times of her life. Twice a year, Dad meets some of his old buddies and they reminisce. He comes back crazy drunk, but smiling like a fool. I hate it.

Natalie and Danny came along five years after me, so they never knew the circus life. They aren't named after Madame Dolores or the strong man who delivered them both in the back of Dolores's trailer. And what so bad about Bobby Wilson? I'm just saying. Mom says my name makes me special. I hate it.

I don't think that they realize the guilt they place on me. They were living their dream and prepared to spend the rest of their life happy as they could be, but I took it away from them. Pictures on the mantle, stories they tell, and even my name are constant reminders that I stole their dreams from them. Dolores dances, Natalie sings, and Danny is the most natural juggler I've ever seen. Mom and Dad teach Drama at the high school I'll never attend. My family is full of performers, except me. I'm a thinker. I'm not artistically talented, but I'm smarter than anyone in my family. That's not appreciated, though. It never will be.

The magic is. Dad used to think I was just really good at parlor tricks. He signed me up for classes, but I didn't excel in the ways he wanted me to. When I got into the classes, I attempted to actually learn the slight of hand and distraction methods. I was good, maybe the best in the class, but not the prodigy Dad wanted. Once again the dream was broken. I think they've always wished that if we all perfected our talents we could have a family act and they could travel again. I don't have that kind of talent. Another dream ruined.

There's a lot that my parents don't know. They don't know how to do their taxes. They don't know how to fly a broomstick. They don't know how to make pie. They don't know how to keep their voices down. They don't know me.

For the first eleven years of my life, I was the non-special one. I had no performance talent. I couldn't help them fulfill their dreams. But now, it's different. I'm still the other one, the black sheep in a way, but now I've brought magic to their lives.

When Professor Potter showed up to take me to Diagon Alley, they started believing in me. I was finally special. If only they realized that I've been special the whole time. In another family, being as smart as I am would be lauded. In my own, it was a disappointment. I don't think they realize yet that doing magic doesn't make me the artistic genius they want me to be. I'm just a regular genius. I'm still a scientist at heart.

Next to Dad on the mantle is Madame Dolores, the carnival's fortune teller. Dad always talks about how uncanny her intuition is. Every year, she joins us for Christmas. She always wears the kookiest hats. Last year, I discovered that she is a registered Seer. There's a lot that my parents don't know.

They don't know I feel like I don't fit in with my family. They don't know that magic doesn't make me a performer. They don't know I play a sport. They don't know that as much as they wish I was, I'm not like them. I'm not going to spoil it. Why ruin yet another dream?

Our mantle has a large picture of our family taken when I was ten. Mom and Dad are wearing smiles. Dolores is holding Natalie upside down. Danny is on Dad's back. I'm off to the side. My glasses are awkwardly hanging from my face. I'm not smiling, but looking at the camera inquisitively. My mom got this picture because everyone else looked so good. My siblings hate how I look in this picture. I love it.

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Hours pass. We get lunch from the cart. Mark attempts to be cuddly with Kathryn who reluctantly follows suit. Alex is saying something to me that I don't really hear. I am looking out the window, my mind wandering. It gets dark. We'll be at the school soon; I need to change.

"Jones?" the voice beside me says.

"What?"

"What classes are you taking? You didn't answer me," Alex says. At some point he changed himself.

"Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Arithmancy," I reply quickly, "I need to change." I rise and grab my bag and head for another compartment. I check to make sure no one can see me and see Linor asleep in her compartment. She looks so vulnerable when she doesn't know someone is looking. I dress in my robes and tie my blue and bronze tie around my neck without really thinking about it. Dad doesn't know how to tie a tie.

After I'm dressed, I return to the car. The others are laughing. I smile. These are my friends. Despite the crap that goes on, despite how I'm an outcast from everyone else at Hogwarts, despite the fact that I don't even fit in with my family, these people like me. It feels good to be liked.

Mark and I are in the same bedroom, so I've known him ever since I came to Hogwarts, but it wasn't until Quidditch try-outs last year that we really clicked. Kathryn and I became close about halfway through first year. I met Alex through Mark.

"I can't believe we are going to get detention at the beginning of the year! Those idiots," Kathryn, the only one of us with a perfect discipline record, had put her book down and was leaning into Mark.

"Come on, Kat," I say taking my seat, "think of it as a fun, new experience for you."

"Unfortunately," Mark adds, "the rest of us have had this experience before, so I lack a positive side to look on."

"Nonsense," I reply, "detention dates are fantastic, or so I hear." I don't date myself. What's the point?

"Ooh! You're right," Mark says nudging Kathryn playfully.

"Of course, I don't think a date with Linor and Teddy with be much fun at all," Kathryn declares.

"Well," Alex pops up, "maybe we won't have detention with them."

"Unlikely," I retort, "the professors seem to think that sharing detention will help students work through their issues and become the best of friends."

"Well then," Kat says, "even more to look forward to. I've always wanted friends that were unstable nitwits and psychotic bitches."

"Babe, don't be so mean." Marc scolds, "It frustrates me when you talk about people like that."

"Well they are!" Kathryn answers, "and it was them who got us into this in the first place." I have to agree with her. Teddy is known for causing trouble and Linor is a bitch. It feels a little wrong to say that about her, but it's true. It strikes me how far we've come since first year.

"We're here," I say looking out the window as the train begins to slow. We all stand prepared to walk off the train.

"Wait," Alex calls, "are we allowed to leave?" He has a point. What would be more suckish than having to stay on the train during the start of term feast?

As though she could read our minds, which may be a possibility, Molly chooses that moment to return to our car. "The heads of house have agreed to let you go to the feast, but you are to report to your respective heads immediately following it. Are we clear? Good." Immediately, she turns on her heel and leaves. She's a real conversationalist.

We leave the train and find ourselves on the familiar platform at Hogsmeade Station. "First Years! This way!" calls the familiar voice of Professor Potter. When Hagrid retired, he wanted this part of the position for some reason, some bullshit about wanting to welcome the first years like he had been welcomed. I almost laugh when I see Teddy try to avoid his look. I pity having a doting godparent with me at school. If I had to deal with a professor breathing down my neck the entire term, I would probably jump off the Astronomy Tower.

I turn back to the others and find they have moved down the platform without me. Being short, I find it difficult to see over the crowd and find them. Figuring I'll meet up with them at the castle, I follow the crowd and climb into a carriage. And then, just to make today more awful than it already was, Linor climbs in after me.

I fight with myself over the protocol for this situation. Do I say something? "How about that fight we had today" didn't seem like a good icebreaker. She is wearing her trademark scowl and avoiding eye contact. I knew that whatever I said she would just snap at me. So, like we have for the past year, we begin the ride to Hogwarts castle in silence pretending we don't have a history, pretending we have never been friends. She is a bitch. But then, I avoided her as much as she did me. My parents don't know that I'm an awful person. It's only a matter of time before Mark and Kathryn figure it out. Unfortunately for me, Linor already has.

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I shouldn't have done it. I know that. I could make excuses, but what's the point? Billy Brady is two years above us and during the last half of first year, Linor had fallen for him. I thought this was stupid. No one really falls for anyone when they're twelve. But I went with it. I listen as she talked for hours and hours about him. Do you think he likes me? Do I have a chance with him? Do you think I'm pretty? Like a good friend, I gave all the right answers, even when, especially when, it required lying.

At the end of first year, I felt relieved. We would go home for the summer, she wouldn't see him, and she would forget all about him. Unfortunately, things never turn out exactly how you want them to. If anything, it got worse. The worst part was that the summer between third and fourth year had been an awkward one for Billy. He came back strangely proportioned and his face wasn't at its finest. She was infatuated, though. It was pathetic.

So I took action. When I don't like a situation, I change it. I didn't like hearing about her endless obsession with the boy she barely knew. So I fixed it. She was talking to him in the Great hall in their usual awkward way and I couldn't take it. It wasn't the smartest thing to jump into their conversation. I feel bad about telling him about her liking them. I feel worse about the juvenile statements about shoe size, which the two of them didn't get. I don't think she understood that I knew I had done something wrong. It was punishment enough for me to look up and see her face, normally so strong, on the verge of tears.

After two days of silence, I found her in one of the courtyards after the last day of Quidditch tryouts. Despite how I did, I was feeling down. My best friend wasn't talking to me. Mark said to give it time, it would pass, but he's always been horribly optimistic as far as human nature.

"I'm sorry," I said walking up to her.

"You better be," was all she had to say back.

"It was stupid of me. Can we just put it past us?"

"Are you serious?" her hair whip around her head as she spun toward me. "You can't just wave your wand and make all your mistakes go away. No. We can't just put it past us." She began to walk back to the castle.

"I said I'm sorry," I said voice rising as I cut her off, "what more do you want from me?"

"Nothing. I want absolutely nothing from you ever again."

"Are you serious? He was just a boy. You barely knew him, and you probably won't ever see him again."

"God, Jones! You always think you know everything when you know nothing. I've known him since I was born. His family and mine go back years. He's been at every Christmas dinner I've had." A wrinkle, but it didn't change the fact that I was sorry.

"I'm sorry that I assumed based on your non-stop rambling on the topic that I knew all about him. Do you realize how ridiculous you've been?"

"Don't try to make this about me? It's about what you did." We had begun to gather a crowd.

"Well what else am I supposed to do?"

"Leave me alone. That's what you should do."

"So that's it. I make a mistake and you're done with me."

"The fact that you don't realize that this is about more than that one event, just proves my point." She walked away after that. Next time I saw her we were back to silence. I could have tried again. I could have made things better, but I didn't. I gave up on her just as much as she gave up on me.

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"Linor," I say for a reason that's a mystery even to myself.

Before I come up with what to say next she solves the dilemma for me. "Don't," she says, "whatever you're going to say next, don't." I spend the rest of the ride the same way I spent the first, in silence. When we reach the castle she is the first out of the carriage, and I don't see where she goes.

"There you are!" Kathryn calls from across the entrance hall, "Were you kidnapped by that awful…"

"She's not that bad," I was surprising myself with new found kindness for her. Wasn't it me who spent the last year mocking her, hating her, and ignoring her?

"Let's go into the feast," Mark announces, always the mediator. "I want to see my sister sorted." We walk into the feast and say goodbye to Alex as we take our seats at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hey guys! How was your summer?" calls a beautiful Indian girl from a little down the table.

"Just fine, Anjali. You?" Mark returns. We know her as the final Chaser on the Ravenclaw team. Sitting next to her is Ann Marie Davis, the Keeper. "Which one of you is captain?"

"Anjali has the official title, due to seniority," Ann Marie replies. "I'll have to wait until next year." As Mark, Anjali, and Ann Marie begin to discuss Quidditch plans, the usual this is our year pre-season euphoria, I look around the room. I have a good view of the Slytherin table and see Linor slide into the seat next to her brother, a Chaser as well. As she looks up, I turn my head before she sees I'm watching her. I'm now looking at the faculty table and, seeing the empty middle chair, I'm reminded of the big change at Hogwarts this year.

After years of steady devotion to Hogwarts as a teacher and Headmistress, Professor McGonagall had retired to spend the remainder of her life happy with her family. I had read in the Prophet that Deputy Headmistress Professor Mulligan had turned down the job to keep teaching. Instead, an Auror and talented witch named Amelia Bane is taking the job. The scandal caused by an outsider taking the job was only dwarfed by the controversy of the outsider herself. I was anxious to see how this woman would affect Hogwarts.

The seat on the Headmaster's right is empty too, as Professor Mulligan is waiting to greet the first years in preparation for the Sorting. I watch as Professor Potter walks in from the side door and goes up to his seat, whispering something to Transfiguration Professor, Eliza Percival, an older woman wearing an eye patch. I take pleasure in the annual guessing game to determine how it got there, but it's likely we'll never know. Potions Master and Slytherin Head, Professor O'Neely, whispers something to him as well before they all settle in their seats.

"Where is this infamous Professor Bane?" Kathryn says from across the table, "Maybe all the controversy got to her."

"Doubt it," I reply, "She's likely waiting to make a grand entrance."

"I can't believe that someone who spent several years in the mental ward of St. Mungo's is now headmistress of the greatest wizarding school in the world."

"The doctors say she fine now. Besides, I hear they have trouble getting people to just teach here, let alone be in charge. Half are afraid of another Dark Lord invading, despite that it's been over a decade, and the other half just don't want to be involved with the next generation."

Suddenly, I hear the boom of the door and turn to see Professor Mulligan, in a stylish set of blue robes, enter. She is a perfect example of big being beautiful. Despite her age and maybe because of her figure, she seems to attract quite a few crushes from the students. Behind her come the usual set of scared looking first years displaying looks varying from apprehension to terror. Motioning for them to stop, she continues to the front of the room giving a pointed look at Mark, Kathryn and I obviously having been informed of the train situation. When she reaches the front she stands before the podium and clears her throat, although she is fully aware everyone is already paying attention to her.

"Welcome, new students," she says in her sweet, yet authoritative, voice, "and to older students, welcome back. Before we begin the sorting, there are a few aspects of business to take care of. As you all know, two members of our faculty retired last year, and, in their place, we welcome two new Professors. Firstly, replacing Professor Sprout as Herbology Professor is Professor Longbottom." She gestures to a man, looking about as nervous as the first years with his hat crooked and dirt on his face, who rises and waves awkwardly as the Hall respectfully applauds. "The duties of Head of Hufflepuff House will be taken over by Professor Percival.

"Secondly, as you all know we have a new Headmistress at Hogwarts. I hope you all treat her with the respect and attentiveness that her position deserves, despite what you may have read in the Daily Prophet. Please join me in welcoming, Professor Bane."

Suddenly smoke begins to fill the hall as though this is a rock band entering and not the dignified Head of a school. Fake, or maybe magically created, lightening crashes from behind the table and the candles in the hall go out. In the flashes I can see a figure has taken position at the Head of the faculty table. Slowly the lights rise on the startling sight of Professor Bane. She is a tall woman with perfectly straight white hair falling to far beyond her waist. Her eyes are deep and colorless with a look that suggests she still has a little bit of crazy left in her, a trait that I think is important to the Hogwarts Head. She wears fancy robes that seem to be every color imaginable and a strange, tattered hat.

I join in as the hall breaks into awkward applause. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen," Kathryn says, not applauding.

"I thought it was kind of fascinating," I add, "and completely ridiculous."

"Guys," Mark scolds, "you need to show her more respect. But yeah, what was that?"

"On with the sorting," is all the new Headmistress has to say. I realize that the hat she is wearing is actually the Sorting Hat. It rises from her head and lands on the stool now beside Professor Mulligan. Her expression implies she agrees with us as she turns to the hat preparing for the song.

From age to age and year to year

You will find me sitting here

Waiting patiently to help the school

For I'm a very special tool

Place me on you head a find

I will look inside your mind

And I will look all through that space

And put you in your perfect place

Perhaps to Gryffindor you'll go

If bravery is a trait you show

Or to Hufflepuff I shall send

Those loyal and great friends

For those who are think and seek and know

To Ravenclaw you shall go

And last "Slytherin!"I'll call

To those who seek greatness above all.

For the founders of this castle asked

That I take this special task

And Sort you as I do

So that is what I'm going to do

So whether you find happiness here

Or tragedy or are faced with fear

Place me on your head and see

Where at Hogwarts you're meant to be.

Again the hall claps. "Not its best," Mark says, "but good." One by one, the first years, largely uninteresting to me are sorted. I cheer appropriately when a new student joins Ravenclaw. I slightly perk up when "Lawrence, Maria" is placed in "HUFFLEPUFF"

"Oh well," Mark says as his sister skips off to join their brothers at the Hufflepuff table, "Maybe Jessie will be like Elizabeth and I."

The sorting ends with "Yancy, James" joining "SLYTHERIN!" and after the hat is removed, Professor Bane stands. Without speaking, she waves her hands and the tables fill with food. I eat in relative silence listening to Anjali's plans for Quidditch tryouts, Mark and Kathryn's flirting, and Kathryn's excitement for classes. I can't help but look up at Linor repeatedly. I wonder why she happened into my life again today. I feel like my mother as I wonder if it's fate. My mother always talks about the spirits of the earth moving us to our proper path on the way to self-fulfillment and accomplishment of the purpose that the Gods have set out for us. My mother doesn't know that I don't buy in to her crazy religion. I can't imagine that the rest of the family does either, but we all pretend. It's better that way.

I realize that I pretend a lot of things. I pretend that I'm okay, perfectly happy even, but I'm not. I pretend that, despite the times I find her crying in the common room, Kathryn's fine, but she's not. And I pretend that I'm over what happened with Linor, but I know I'm not. I can't just leave that hanging. I'm going to fix it. I owe it to her.

Before I know it, the feast is over, and Professor Bane has stood again. "I trust that I only have to say this for the first years, as all of the rest of you know, but the forest surrounding the castle is off-limits. Also, I need to speak to all of the Quidditch captains as soon as I'm finished here. I could stand up here and tell you all how I will succeed at Hogwarts, but I shall let my actions speak for themselves. Captains, this way please." Without waiting for response, she stands and walks off to a side room. I watch as a puzzled Anjali follows her, along with James Grayson and the other two captains.

"Well then," Professor Mulligan says, "I suggest you all return to your dormitories and get a good night's sleep. Classes begin tomorrow." As I stand to join my classmates in leaving the hall, I feel an immense respect for Professor Bane. Most people would have talked on end about themselves, but she's different. I like different. Of course, her entrance was not as likable. I am unsure what to think of this ne Headmistress.

"Well, time to get yelled at," Kathryn says grabbing Mark's outstretched arm (I pretend I don't see the reluctance) and splitting from the other Ravenclaws to walk to Professor Mulligan's office. I follow behind passing the Slytherins. I see Linor splitting off as well. She looks at me, and I don't enjoy her gaze. Everyone loves my parents. They don't know what it's like to get a look of intense hatred. They don't know how much it hurts to see the pain hidden in that look and know you caused it. Unfortunately, I do.