Chapter Eleven: The Mysterious Affair of the Sorting Hat

'Eugh,' said Rowena, hurrying to catch up with Salazar as he strode down the hill towards the village, 'I think I just swallowed a hair.'

'Come again?' he said, several feet ahead of her with a voice smothered by the wind.

'I said I've just swallowed a hair!'

He stopped in his tracks to stare at her. Rowena took the opportunity to catch up with him, illuminated wand held out ahead of her to avoid falling over a badger or fox or whatever they had in Nature.

'Swallowed?' he repeated, eyebrows raised as they set off again through the darkness.

'Yeah, and it's making my throat itch something awful.'

'What, one of those bouncy rabbit things?'

She frowned. 'I said a hair, Sally. You know, one of those things that make up your ponytail?'

'Would you give up with that? You've put me in a bad enough mood as it is!'

'Oh, diddums, my heart is breaking. What have I done now?'

'You shouldn't be coming, Ravenclaw! I might just trade you for a magic teapot!'

'Ask them if they can throw an enchanted doily into the bargain.'

'Ha. Ha.'

They reached the outskirts of the village at last, but didn't slow down. Instead Salazar glanced at the sky and groaned, then grabbed Rowena roughly by the wrist and sprinted in the direction of a tall, raggedy inn. She had time to say "Marrgle!" and nothing else.

'Open up, please!' he shouted through the entrance, banging the door with his fists. It seemed to be an inn…quite a small one, all told. Rowena thought, Surely that's not big enough for an auction?

Aloud she said, 'Salazar you silly tart, what was that for? I nearly lost my shoe back there and you're hurting my wrist!'

'Let us in!' he yelled, hammering again and ignoring her.

'Could've sprained my ankle…ooh,' the door was opened by a toothless old man with an egg-shaped head and impressive beard. Soundlessly he let them in to the quiet, empty bar…

'Here we are,' said Slytherin.

Rowena nodded. 'Yeah, that's apparent. Where are we, exactly? This doesn't look much like an auction.'

'No…quick, follow me.'

'But— margh!' Again he grabbed her wrist, this time to silence her more than anything, and quickly headed towards the back of the bar.

There was a door: a solitary wooden door that lead, by the looks of it, outside. Yet Rowena hadn't seen anyone outside as they approached the inn, and there wasn't room for an additional room so—

'You first,' said Salazar.

'What?'

He gave her a fleeting smirk and kicked the door open. For a second Rowena saw nothing but the muddy lane behind the inn, then Salazar pushed her firmly by the shoulders and she stumbled through the darkness…

Immediately she felt heavy eyes upon her. She looked around, picked herself off the floor and mumbled, 'Oh…hello…?'

With a slight "blob" noise, Salazar appeared beside her, sprawled across the floor. He stood up and brushed the dust from his trousers and, as if offering some kind of explanation, said:

'Hm, I think it's better to run at it than jump through…I mean, there's more chance you'll run into someone but at least you won't land on the floor, which is usually quite painful.'

Rowena said, '…Huh?'

'At least we got here in time; couple of minutes later and the entrance would be sealed for the night, and it's no fun trying to jump through a sealed entrance, believe me.'

Rowena snapped out of it and hissed, 'Why the hell did you push me?'

'I just explained!'

'It hurt!'

'Sorry!'

She turned away from him and re-examined the room. It was a lot to take in…starting with the ceiling, which was covered by a strange tent or banner of some sort, the room was both high and very wide, providing ample room for the hundred or so people inside.

There were rows of stalls, like an over-crowded marketplace, and far, far ahead of her she could make out a stage of some kind. Shadowed figures of different shapes and sizes swarmed around the stalls, no longer paying either of them any attention but picking up and observing the strange objects at the booths.

The smell was…colourful. Mud and ale and smoke and…livestock? There was a lot of conversation with occasional shouts and sudden blasts of colour on the horizon that Rowena found vaguely worrying.

'Come on then, Ravenclaw,' said Salazar, grinning at her sadistically, 'since you wanted to be here so much, you can chose where we go first.'

'Er,' she said, stepping off in one direction and quickly coming to a halt. She looked around. Things crawled in jars; shrunken heads blinked. Shadows hissed and groaned. She looked back to Salazar imploringly and said, 'You know, now I think about it it's actually an incredibly masculine hairstyle, the ponytail.'

Salazar sighed and walked ahead of her. Rowena stayed very close. A quiet mutter followed them.

Apparently either unaware of this or ignoring it, Slytherin picked up a potion bottle from a table and examined it. 'Hm, this looks shabbily done,' he commented.

Rowena shuddered. Something in the bottle oozed and quivered. 'Yeah, Salazar, it's lovely. This doesn't seem like the place to buy school supplies…'

'There's some good stuff here, as well.'

'Really?' She flinched as something ran its fingers through her hair, but knew better than to complain about it. 'Let's just look for those then, shall we?'

'Yeah. How d'you fancy a bleeding stone?'

'Er, what's one of those?'

'It's a stone that bleeds.'

'Oh. No thanks.'

'Sure? Could make a nice paperweight.'

'No, thanks.'

A gruff voice from behind the table said, 'Y'can use it t'crush y'r enemy's skulls into a fine powder.'

Salazar nodded approvingly and turned to Rowena. 'Hear that, Ravenclaw? A fine powder. Wouldn't that make a nice gift?'

She giggled despite herself. 'No thanks. I find that a plank of wood with a nail through the end works just as well.'

Salazar sighed and shook his head, replacing the stone and mumbling to the stall owner, 'I don't know, women are so hard to impress these days. No one appreciates a fine powder of skulls anymore…'

The voice grunted as they moved on. The contents of the booths seemed to run on the same lines: magical, ancient, could kill you very quickly. An occasional squawk and hiss suggested this extended past inanimate objects and onto very strange animals she didn't like to think about.

''Lo, Slytherin.'

Salazar stopped and wheeled around. Rowena collided with his chest, said "oof" and also turned around to see a tall, greasy-looking fellow, dressed in a fine suit that struggled to cover all the flesh that encased him. He was…young, probably; certainly not much older than the Founders, but something about his voice and shy mannerisms made him look younger. He inclined his head slightly and looked at them through raised, piggy eyes.

'Oh, hello again Marley,' said Salazar, sounding less than ecstatic to meet him but shaking his hand anyway. Rowena, caught between them and unsure what to do, just waved politely.

Marley looked at her. 'Oh,' he said, still talking to Slytherin, 'who is this?'

Slytherin didn't say anything, but nudged her in the back.

'Ouch, I'm Rowena Ravenclaw,' she smiled as he shook her hand, definitely holding on for longer than was really necessary.

'Indeed? I am, ah-ha, delighted to meet you Miss Ravenclaw. It is not often we see females here, ah-ha.'

Rowena was beginning to suspect he didn't often see females anywhere.

Salazar explained, 'Marley Hagrid is the son of one of my father's friends. I've bought a few things from him over the years. You might have heard of the Ravenclaws?' As he spoke she could feel several other ears tuning in and out and defensively gravitated closer towards Slytherin.

'Ah-ha, yes, the Ravenclaws. I believe the family had a Seer and a rather large fortune, ah-ha, sadly squandered by the eldest son after the parents deaths, ah-ha.'

Rowena tensed slightly. 'Yeah,' she mumbled, with forced nonchalance, 'that's the one.'

'Ah-ha, such an attractive family, it would seem, ah-ha, ah-ha.'

'Er…ah-ha.'

'Ah-ha,' agreed Salazar. It was contagious. 'Well, we're just looking around for supplies, Hagrid, so maybe we'll see you around somewhere—'

'How is, ah-ha, Gryffindor?'

'Same as always.'

'Ah-ha.'

'Ah-ha. Yeah. Well, see you, Marley—'

'Do you have anything in mind, ah-ha, to be purchased today?'

'Just looking really. Better start the search now, actually, since we're running a bit late and—'

'Ah-ha, indeed, farewell Slytherin. Farewell, Lady Ravenclaw.' She reluctantly offered her hand, which kissed before departing into the crowd.

As soon as he was out of earshot she rubbed the hand on her dress and said, 'Eugh, he was greasy, eugh, eugh…'

'You're telling me. Told you this wasn't the place for a woman, didn't I?'

'Well when you said that, I didn't imagine I'd be flirted with! Eugh, he has a very soggy mouth. Do they sell soap here, do you think?'

'For some reason, Ravenclaw…I don't think so, no. Would you mind your own business?' he demanded, addressing a crowd of staring shadows nearby.

Grudgingly, the shadows scattered and the volume around them rose slightly. Rowena nodded her head approvingly. 'Good boy, Sally.'

He rolled his eyes slightly, then guided her carefully through the crowd towards a nearby stall. As he did, he said, 'You probably shouldn't call me that here. It could cause a few ugly questions.'

'"Ugly" being the operative word,' she added, as yellow eyes watched them pass.

Around them, the aura was very…careful. Everyone was determined not to stand on anyone else's toes, for fear that someone would stand on their face. Very careful, dark and heavy—

'Stay here a second will you, Ro?'

- Did he just call me "Ro"?

Temporarily speechless, she had no opportunity to object as Salazar strode away through the crowd. Once he was out of sight, she snapped her gaping jaw shut and mumbled, 'Alright…Sal?'

Well, that was a first.

Not a…a weird first, was it? Well, "Ro"…that was her nickname, wasn't it…it was what Helga would call her and her parents once called her and her brother would call her and, er, all the people she bonded with. Yeah, it was a name that stemmed from the act of bondage. Bonding!

Er…

Well, obviously Salazar didn't know about the connotations of that particular nickname, so it was alright for him to call her by it. He wouldn't see it the same way everyone else did: an affectionate, friendly name. No; it had merely slipped out, casually.

Strangely.

But not really.

But, er…

Goddamn, a few months ago she would have killed him for saying that!

She sighed irritably at the mental track she'd hopped aboard and leant against the stall he'd abandoned her by. It seemed to be empty, other than a dirty brass candlestick and an old leathery hat, and since no one was stood behind it she doubted anyone would object to her presence.

The hat rested on a sheet of paper with some writing on it. First checking to see she wasn't being watched, she read it to herself. It said:

JS – 2 sickles

KH – 4 sickles

NS – 5 sickles

TO – 8 sickles

RK – 9 sickles 3 knuts

LJ – 11 sickles

MH – 13 sickles

Rowena realised she was staring at a bidding form of some kind. Write down your bid, and whoever goes highest wins? Ingenious, until you reached the point when two people bid the same amount and had to undertake the battle-to-the-death thing.

Good Lord. Had Salazar ever done that? It wasn't unlikely. Had he won? Oh, of course, Rowena, that's the most stupid thing you've said in a good few minutes. So he'd…killed people? Well, he might have done…

'Woman.'

Rowena looked up sharply.

'Woman,' said the voice again, in a rough, Glaswegian whisper.

Rowena said, 'Er, hello?' She slipped from the edge of the stall and looked behind it, but no one seemed to be there.

'Woman,' said the voice, 'get me some aaaale.'

She peered around behind the table to make sure she wasn't talking to a drunken midget.

'Some ale?' she repeated.

'Ale, whores, wimmin!'

'Ales and whores and women? Oh my,' she added, for the benefit of her own humour.

'Wimmin!'

Look at me, said the voice of Rowena's conscience, in a secret, criminal auction, arguing with a disembodied Glaswegian spirit about the correct pronunciation of "women".

'Can I help you?' she ventured.

'Pour some ale in me tip!'

'In your what?'

'Aaaaale!'

Rowena looked again stall she'd been sat on. Ah. Look at me, said the voice of Rowena's conscience, in a secret, criminal auction, arguing with a Glaswegian hat about the correct pronunciation of "women".

She said, 'Oh. I see you are a…er, a hat.'

'Aye,' said the hat, 'but I still wants me some whores.'

'Ah? Ah, OK.' Rowena nodded to herself and took a discreet step backwards.

'And some ale,' the hat added.

'Right. Er…I'm not sure I'll be able to get you any of these things—'

'Wimmin!'

'Yeah, you see, there aren't any other women here—'

'Ale!'

'I don't think—'

'Whores!'

'I, er, wouldn't think you could enjoy whores, what with you being a…er…hat.'

'Try me!'

The mind reeled. Rowena glanced around her surroundings and noticed how few people were around that area of the auction. They all appeared to be gravitating towards the front of the room, congregating around the stage and occasionally jeering. Where the hell was Salazar when he was needed?

The hat said, 'Are ye confused, woman?'

Mainly to herself, she replied, 'Oh, as always.'

'I'm a sorting hat.'

'Ah?'

'If ye put me on, I'll tell ye a few things.'

Rowena glanced around her again before sidling closer towards the stall. 'Things?' she repeated, 'Like what?'

'I don't know, woman, whatever ye wants.'

She looked around again. No sign of Slytherin life…

'Well, could you tell me—?'

'Put me on first woman!'

Gingerly, Rowena did so. It felt itchy on her scalp— oh, Lord only knew the kind of things that were in the lining— but fit snugly enough. Perhaps…too snugly…

'Er,' she said, 'now what?'

'Get me some aaaale!'

She removed the hat. At least, she tried to remove the hat, but the hat really didn't want to let go. Instead in cried:

'AAAALE!'

'Alright,' said Salazar, 'six knuts.'

Xavier Malfoy turned to the hook-nosed man with an impressive scar. 'Six knuts?' he repeated.

Mr Hook Nose considered this. 'Seven,' he said eventually.

Malfoy turned to Salazar and said, 'Seven knuts?'

'Six.'

'Six?' said Malfoy.

'Seven!' said Hook Nose.

'Seven?' said Malfoy.

'Not seven, six!' said Salazar.

'He still says six.'

'I know he says six,' Mr Hook Nose spat at Xavier, 'I'm stood right here!'

Xavier delicately wiped the spit from the corner of his eye and sneered. There was nothing about the situation worth sneering about, but when one reviewed life in general and compared it to the life of Mr Nose, one simply had to sneer.

Salazar, stood across the table from Xavier and Mr Nose, raised an eyebrow and also sneered. It was very important that the Slytherins win the battle of casual arrogance and general bastardry.

He said, 'Malfoy, are you really going to let a man who spits when he speaks get his own way?'

Mr Nose fumed.

'I think you know,' said Xavier, in a bored drawl that outshone Salazar's, 'that it really isn't up to me, Slytherin. If this man is petty enough to argue over the sake of one knut, there's only one way to resolve it.'

'Bare knuckle battle to the death?' said Salazar, 'Ah, well, if you insist.'

Mr Nose looked between them both and growled. 'You're a scrawny little thing!' he barked at Salazar. 'I could kill you without trying!'

'You're a muggle, aren't you?'

'No wands allowed!'

'Some wizards don't need a wand to perform the killing curse, as I believe you know. Six knuts?'

Mr Nose threw the spell book across the table while Salazar, with pronounced care, counted out seven knuts and handed them to Xavier, who took one and passed the rest on. Mr Nose stormed away.

'Pleasant chap,' said Xavier, dryly.

'Certainly thick-skulled.' They left the table near the foot of the stage, where a crowd was massing in anticipation of the night's first fight. Salazar concentrated particularly on lurking and slouching to the best of his ability. Take that for casual snobbery, Malfoy…

'A shame,' said Malfoy, as they navigated around the stalls uninterestedly, 'I was hoping you'd entertain the masses by killing him.'

'Yeah, well, I prefer not to, if at all possible.'

'Indeed? I hope you're not becoming pathetic, Slytherin.'

'Of course not.'

'We'll see.'

'What does that mean?'

Xavier shrugged, his permanent sneer still apparent, and said, 'It's not every night you turn up here with a pretty young girl, Slytherin.'

'Who? Ravenclaw?'

'Ravenclaw?' he echoed, thoughtfully tapping his chin. 'The Ravenclaws with the Seer in the family?'

'Yeah.'

'How many heirs?'

'Two; Rowena and a brother.'

'Ah. No money left, I presume?'

'None at all.'

'Not trying to dig her way into the Slytherin fortune, I hope?'

Salazar threw him a look that was partially disgusted, but mainly non-committal. It was a bad idea to insult your financier, especially ones you were directly related to. 'Certainly not,' he replied, as yet more people rushed past them and in the direction of the fight now breaking out, 'there's nothing of that sort happening.'

'Ah,' he sneered, '"just good friends"?'

He struggled to remain evil, casual and cool. 'No.'

'Bedfellows?'

'Really, Malfoy…'

'Just friends?'

'Just nothing,' he replied coolly, 'we just know each other. If you'll excuse me…' He left the side of bloody Malfoy and headed back towards the stall he'd left Rowena by.

Malfoy watched him leave, a calculating expression on his face. Salazar Slytherin, "just nothing" with a Ravenclaw? Well, that could certainly be interesting…very entertaining, if he managed the situation perfectly. Definitely a valid form of...what was it? Leverage.

Very interesting indeed.