chapter 4: the best laid plans

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood in the archway. She had a very stern face and Eleanor felt quite shy in her presence.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide.

Eleanor tried her best not to gasp at the enormity of the Entrance Hall.

Beside her, Susan whispered a quiet wow .

The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, flickering a warm light on her classmates' faces as they followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. There was a low drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear. Eleanor felt her hand compulsively jump to her tangled hair, as she tried to run a finger through the long mess.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber.

Eleanor turned to Susan. "She was terrifying."

Susan giggled. "Oh don't worry. She's head of Gryffindor. Can't be too bad."

No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which one she'd need, off in the distance.

"Did she say we'd have to perform a spell?" Eleanor asked Susan.

Susan shrugged at her, and Eleanor saw the first signs of fear begin to appear on Susan's face.

Suddenly, a scream erupted behind her, and Eleanor whipped around so fast, she almost fell to the stone floor.

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing.

A short little one was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years. Eleanor was wondering if every day at Hogwarts would be like this, a terrifying leap into unknown waters.

Nobody answered the ghost's question.

"New students!" said the Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

Susan squeezed Eleanor's hand, and Eleanor tried to memorize the details of the ghost. Maybe this was part of the test - they each picked out a ghost, and they would join whichever house associated with the ghost they selected. Or maybe they picked out a hat that belonged to the ghost, and were then sorted accordingly. Eleanor tried to imagine what kind of hat the Friar might have worn.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned, and Eleanor didn't get a chance to tell Susan her theory.

One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first-years, "and follow me."

They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall, Eleanor trying very hard to not steer too far away from Susan.

The doors opened to a magnificent sight. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting, and watching. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets.

At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first-years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. Susan nudged her slightly, which Eleanor took to mean that this must have been the hat her aunt had mentioned.

It was nothing like the baseball cap that Eleanor had imagined. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Everyone in the Hall was now staring at it, so Eleanor watched it as well.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

'Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on!

Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Eleanor, however, felt floored with fear. The hat said she could hide nothing from it. There would be no pretending, no best foot forward.

But, a small part of Eleanor thought nervously, at least this would tell her early on. She'd know very soon if she truly was evil. The hat would tell her. And she'd no longer have to wonder.

The worst part would be that she'd have to find out at the same time as everyone else.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

With this announcement, Eleanor truly realized the horror of what was about to happen. Not only would the hat sort her, but McGonagall would identify her to the whole of the school. Everyone would know her name all at once. There would be no hiding, no anonymity. She began to regret ever agreeing to go to this stupid school full of people who were bound to hate her for the decisions her mother made before she was even born.

"Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat.

Eleanor missed what had happened, but watched as the young girl jumped off the stool and ran over to the cheering students from what must have been the Hufflepuff table. They all looked unwaveringly friendly, Eleanor thought.

"Bones, Susan!"

Nell gasped and grabbed Susan's hand quickly to wish her a silent good luck. Or perhaps it might have been to say goodbye to their short and pleasant friendship. Susan looked back at her and smiled before walking up with a cool confidence that Eleanor couldn't imagine. Professor McGonagall placed the wrinkled thing over Susan's long blonde hair.

"Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat again, and Susan managed a quick wink to Eleanor.

Right, Hufflepuff it was, then. This was the goal. Eleanor tried to turn it into a mantra in her head, as if it would rearrange the essence of her soul itself.

Boot, Terry was next, and he broke the Hufflepuff streak with the hat's announcement of Ravenclaw.

Brown, Lavender became the first Gryffindor, and Eleanor noticed with discomfort that there had been no Slytherins yet. She tried to take in what she could from her quick survey of Lavender, and the roaring cheers of the students welcoming their newest house member. Were they all truly brave and daring? Could Eleanor be able to tell that from just the way they looked? Did she look like that, even a little bit?

"Bulstrode, Milicent!" came the next shout.

"Slytherin!" yelled the hat.

Eleanor sighed a short relief. If it were a game of odds, at least she was looking at a more balanced field now. She dared a quick look at the table that cheered for their newest member. Was that where her mother had sat once? Did those kids sitting there now look anything like the classmates her mother had once had? Was their evil so obvious then when they were only children, and would Eleanor be able to see it in the kids before her now? Was she imagining the mean glint in their eyes, or the sneer of their faces?

She almost didn't hear.

"Capulet, Eleanor!"

Eleanor's stomach dropped to her feet, and her eyes followed soon after. She could feel the white hot stares from across the room. Was she imagining whispers that broke out - or the tension she was sure settled across the hall?

She glanced up at McGonagall, who seemed no different than she had been after announcing every other student's name.

As Eleanor walked up, she sought out Susan's face amongst the crowd, sure that if she could find her reassuring smile, already familiar, then everything would be alright. But when her eyes finally settled on the new Hufflepuff, there was no smile on her face. Instead, she looked pale, her mouth hung open, and she stared at Eleanor like she had just watched her grab that little toad out of Neville's hands and crush it beneath her foot.

This disappointment coursed a blazing hot path through Eleanor's stomach, and it made her forget her quiet mantra, her thoughts of the Friar, and her desperate plea to be good. The hat only skimmed the top of her head before it shouted.

"Slytherin!"

No! Eleanor wanted to scream. She wanted to beg for a do-over, but the hat was already being lifted off and she was already being cheered on by the loud table she had so dreaded. She didn't dare glance toward Susan again, and all of her remaining energy went into trying as hard as she could not to cry.

This was the answer to the question that haunted her since she learned about the evil path her mother had once been down. Slytherin . The family legacy. The evil wizard's house that supplied the world with villains, jerks, and bullies. The house for evil wizards, kept far away from those that were good, and kind, or clever and brave. The house for Eleanor Capulet.

She sat across from Milicent, her future dormate, now. But Eleanor had lost the energy to introduce herself, and try to make friends. And, besides, Milicent seemed to glower.

The next Slytherin was Vincent Crabbe, who Eleanor recognized as one of the burly bodyguard types that had been hovering defense for Draco Malfoy. He walked over, no surprise on his face whatsoever, and Eleanor wondered what deep down attributes they shared. Watching the bored way he seemed to regard the scene in front of him, and the mean set to his jaw, Eleanor couldn't imagine much.

Davis, Tracey was next. Another Slytherin, and the first one who at least from first glance looked relatively normal. She had curly brown hair held back by a headband, and something of a goofy smile. She sat down next to Eleanor, and didn't seem to notice the way Eleanor's hands were still shaking below the table.

Seamus's last name was revealed as Finnegan, and he became another Gryffindor. Just another nail in the coffin of that stupid fantasy she had come up with before the hat had a chance to condemn her to this new future.

Granger, Hermione also became a Gryffindor, and Eleanor was starting to find all of it quite cruel.

She had lost her shock of the whole thing when the awful Malfoy boy joined their table as well, taking his place between Crabbe and Goyle, just like they had been on the train. Across from her, Malfoy shot her a sneer, and in Eleanor's glare back, she thought that a feud with this horrible snob might be a way for her to funnel all of this building frustration.

"Are you going to glower like that for all seven years, then?" Draco asked her while Roger Malone was being sorted.

"Only when I have the misfortune of looking at you," Eleanor replied, because she no longer needed to hold back and be the pleasant version of herself that she thought would be enough. She might as well say what she thought, now. Become the Slytherin she had clearly been destined to be.

But Draco surprised her with what could almost be called a laugh, before he was distracted by the sorting of Nott, Theodore into their house.

"My father arranged to have Theodore and I meet earlier this summer. You see, both our families have a good proud history in Slytherin. My father wanted to make sure I was well aware of the right people to know if I had to school with trash like the Weasleys," Draco explained to Crabbe and Goyle, who grunted back an acknowledgement.

Pansy Parkinson, another future roommate, sat on Theodore's other side, and seemed to be quite delighted to do so.

"Hi Pansy," Draco said.

"Hello, Draco," she responded, with the lightest bloom of red on her high cheekbones.

"Potter, Harry!"

The whole hall went entirely silent. Eleanor could hear hushed whispers, and felt a nervous anticipation that sent goosebumps up her arms. Even Draco, who had seemed rather bored by the ceremony once he had been sorted, looked suddenly rapt with attention, as the boy with the untidy hair walked forward, eyes fixed on the wrinkled old hat.

The choice for his house did not seem to come as quickly as it had for many others. It deliberated quietly as it sat on his small head, and Eleanor felt grateful that at least her sentencing had been quick.

"Gryffindor!"

Roaring cheers, louder than any other had been, erupted through the hall. Even the teachers looked delighted, and Harry shot to his new home with glee.

Draco Malfoy, however, was scowling more deeply than Eleanor had seen yet.

"Figures," he growled to Goyle, who mirrored Draco's face once he saw it.

The sorting finally finished with Blaise Zambini, the final new member of Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Eleanor watched the extraordinarily old man at the center of the teacher's table rise to his feet, and guessed this was the famous Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered, except for a large number of the Slytherin students around Eleanor.

"My father says Dumbledore is mad. I suppose he's right," Draco muttered to his cronies.

Eleanor ignored him.

The food appeared before them, and Eleanor was instantly hit with some of the most delicious smells she had ever experienced. She glanced around for everything that seemed vegetarian and piled it on her plate. She dug in with a ferocious appetite that must have been hiding under the mountains of nerves.

"Hello," said Tracey from beside her, who had taken a much more civilized approach to her meal.

"Oh, hi!" Eleanor said, choking down the food in her mouth, hoping she looked less barbaric than she felt.

"Eleanor, is it?" Tracey asked.

"Yeah. You're Tracey, then?"

Tracey nodded.

"Careful, Davis," Malfoy sneered, and Eleanor wondered how she could survive this annoying thorne at her side all seven years.

"About what?" Tracey asked.

"Haven't you heard the tale of the tragic Capulets?"

Tracey shook her head. "No."

"I'm sure you've heard the name Hemlock?" Draco asked, and all Eleanor could do was glare.

"Hmm… I think so. It sounds familiar at least. She was in the war, right? Ophelia or Olivia or something?"

"Ottilie Hemlock."

"Wasn't she a…"

"Sure was. Just until the last moment of course, after she married a muggle and popped out a baby, that is. Thought she could defeat the Dark Lord herself. Unsurprisingly was then killed," Draco explained, though he was looking at Eleanor. "So, tell me, Capulet… is Mummy Dearest buried here in England? Or did you put her in the ground in whatever muggle town she tried to hide in?"

Tracey turned to Eleanor, her blue eyes wide open and staring. But Eleanor did not leave the piercing glare of Malfoy's.

"You'll regret that, Malfoy," Eleanor said, and she meant it, down to her very bones.