"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately." If I wake up now, I'll be so pissed.
Exiting the Hogwarts express was possibly even more exciting than boarding. There was a tension in my gut as I stepped down onto the platform and I was almost worried I would be sick from anticipation. The cold night air hit my face like a shock and the adrenaline sent a thrill through my body. I must have been grinning wider than I ever had before.
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" I could see Hagrid, truly massive, above the crowd and began to follow the flow of first year students. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!" he bellowed.
The narrow, forested path was thick with mud, causing many students to bump into each other and slide around, making the walk feel both slow and awkward (as people had to frequently stop to get their footing) and thrillingly fast (from sliding suddenly forward every few steps).
After a while, I heard Hagrid say "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight of Hogwarts in a sec, just round this bend." Millicent and Daphne were stumbling along ahead of me when we turned the corner and I heard them "ooo" when the castle came into view. I sucked in a long breath and held it for a long moment. "Ooo" didn't cover it. It was like a fairy tale. Not just my dream of going to Hogwarts, but every childhood dream I'd ever had seemed to be coming true. If I held my head high and my shoulders back as I looked towards the massive towers and parapets, I could almost convince myself I was a mighty queen, on my way home from a lifetime abroad.
My new acquaintances and I clumsily boarded a small boat. Someone got in behind us, but I didn't look back to see who it was. When we were halfway across the water, I could have sworn I saw a tentacle move just beneath the surface. Millicent, directly in front of me, gripped the sides of the boat anxiously, as if she thought she might fall out.
"We're almost there," I whispered instinctively.
Soon enough, we were ducking our heads under the ivy curtain into the tunnel under the school. When I nearly lost my balance climbing out of the boat, Millicent caught me by the arm and held it until I was on solid ground. Being a perpetually embarrassed person, I blushed. We walked up the stone steps (getting around this school is going to be a nightmare) and gathered around the huge wooden door, seeming to hold a collective breath.
The door swung open the moment Hagrid knocked. There stood Professor McGonagall. I was almost disappointed that I had met her before this more climactic moment, but I tried to look past it. After Hagrid introduced her, we were off through the Entrance Hall. It was so massive and ornate that it made me wonder if the castle had been built with the intention of being a school, or if it was initially the home of some ancient and sinister vampire royalty. We could hear the rest of the school gathered in the Great Hall, awaiting our arrival. As we huddled into the side room, I yet again tried glancing around to see if I recognized anyone. I recognized Neville from on the train. I saw Ron, a shock of ginger hair next to Harry Potter. I picked out the twins, Parvati and Padma Patil.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. I sort of stopped paying attention when she started explaining the houses. I had read her little speech dozens of times by now and heard the movie version just as many. I thought about the implications of her saying that a Hogwarts house was meant to be like one's family. I had been starting to lean towards Slytherin, but could I be a family with people who often held such odious views? Indeed, Slytherin might be the best fit for me, and might suit my needs on the quest I'm undertaking, but was I safe there? Was I better off asking the sorting hat to put me somewhere else, even though I didn't feel particularly brave or chivalrous, I didn't think I could handle the pressure of being expected to be intelligent, and I didn't really place much value in loyalty and hard work for their own sake?
Just as I was thinking I might need more time to think about this, McGonagall left the room, the sound of the door shutting snapping me out of my anxious thoughts. Somewhere ahead of me, Harry Potter swallowed nervously. I started eavesdropping on Hermione's conversation nearby, which was easy as she was the only one talking. Wait a moment, isn't this the part where the ghosts-
Screams abruptly erupted from behind me and I let out a yelp in surprise, turning quickly to see where the silvery figures emerging from the wall. I felt the presence of the ghosts oddly comforting, in an existential sort of way. Oh, cool, so there is something after death.
After a few moments, Professor McGonagall returned to lead us into the Great Hall. We – the eleven year old children – were then made to form a single file line to be paraded in front of the rest of the school. If you've never seen thousands of candles in a single room, it can be difficult to imagine the scale of that. Needless to say, it's always a bit more than you can imagine in your head. I found myself wondering where all the wax goes as it melts. Obviously, it doesn't drip down onto the students, though that's funny to imagine. Do magic candles even melt? I felt my stomach grumble as I looked around at the empty plates. It turned out that a couple packaged baked goods may not have been the most satiating lunch. Stop getting distracted, I chastised myself. This is literally the most interesting thing that has ever happened to you, and all you can think about is hunger and candle wax. Head in the game.
As we had arrived at the top of the hall, we watched Professor McGonagall place out the Sorting Hat. Wait, why did she leave before if not to set the hat up? Why didn't they set the hat out beforehand? Oh, crap. The sorting process is alphabetical in the books. I'll be one of the first ones up. I need to make a decision quickly.
Then, the hat started to sing. When I tell you it's voice sounded like the voice of a hat… you might just have to take my word for it. It was like the sound of dust and fabric rustling together, but as words.
"There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see," it sang. I wondered if that would work to my advantage or my detriment. Maybe the hat could help me make a decision that I was unsure of, but what if it came to a conclusion that I didn't like?
"Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart," came another line. I couldn't help but think that daring and nerve seemed like the same thing. Beyond that, I began to wonder, yet again, if any of the house traits really fit me. Maybe Ravenclaw? I guess I'm kind of a nerd and an art kid. But am I studious? Witty? Would I, like a Slytherin, "use any means to achieve [my] ends," as the hat sang? I've always thought no one knows what they're willing to do until they feel like they have to do it.
The Great Hall filled with the sound of applause when the song came to an end. Professor McGonagall stepped forward with the list of names.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
I wondered vaguely what Hannah Abbott was like, not recalling her having a particularly large part in the books. It occurred to me that – given the nature of books in comparison to real life – there was a lot about this world and these people that I simply had no idea about. Not that I thought I knew everything but-
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat called out. Hannah went to sit with the Hufflepuffs and I took a deep, steadying breath.
"Ash, Branchus!"
I held my head up and walked quickly toward the stool, hoping I looked more sure than I felt. As the hat slipped over my eyes, I thought 'I still don't know which house would be best for me.'
"I know," said the hat. I shivered. "I know all kinds of things about you. Naturally curious, open-minded. Ravenclaw would suit you well, but this option troubles you."
"Yes," I thought, resisting the temptation to speak out loud. "I'm worried it won't be enough - that it won't be enough to change things." The thought "change everything" played in the background of my mind.
"Change -" said the hat "- is a natural process that happens whether we make it or not." In no particular order, and often all at once because real thoughts are rarely linear, I thought the words 'change everything', 'not enough', 'turn it all upside down'.
"But, if that's not enough for you," said the hat, "must be… SLYTHERIN!"
For some reason, the scream of the hat came as a relief to me. More than a relief, it felt like a triumph. Like I was actually supposed to go to Slytherin all along but hadn't realized it yet because the author was trying to build tension. I took the hat off and walked briskly toward the Slytherin table as they cheered, trying not to embarrass myself by skipping. I sat next to a boy with distinguished cheekbones and dark hair, who smiled and introduced himself as Adrian Pucey as I sat down.
After a few other students, Millicent was sorted into Slytherin and came over to sit next to me, looking delighted. She squeezed my hand in silent greeting. We watched the sorting quietly, which – for the record – feels a lot longer than when you're reading it. Daphne Greengrass was sorted right after Hermione and walked briskly to come sit on the other side of Millicent.
The sorting was mostly uninteresting – people I barely recognized and people I already knew the house of – until one name in particular was called.
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Truly, if anyone dared walk with more drama than Draco Malfoy, they would be struck dead on the spot by the goddess Hera for posing too much competition. I could have sworn the hat never even touched a single strand of platinum hair before declaring he was a Slytherin. Strutting over to the table to a round of applause, he looked as though he had just been crowned King of Hogwarts. He, too, was sitting very near me, right across from Millicent. An older student had to shift over so he could sit with his friends. Malfoy and his friends immediately started making distracting conversation about how he knew he was going to be in Slytherin and how his whole family had been in Slytherin and he was basically made for Slytherin. If that sounds repetitive, imagine actually being there. I could not for the life of me understand why no one was shutting him up. Sure he was a Malfoy, but he was still a first year brat. Luckily, something happened that finally got Malfoy to stop talking.
"Potter, Harry!"
Whispers blew through the whole of the Great Hall, making my nape hairs stand on end. Even at the Slytherin table, many people seemed excited that the famous Harry Potter might be in their house. As he walked up to try on the Sorting Hat, I couldn't help but wonder what he had thought of me when I was sorted. Did he think I looked as "unpleasant" as the other Slytherins? When Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, several of the Slytherins (Including Adrian Pucey) shrugged and grumbled disappointedly. Malfoy, on the other hand, began saying to his friends that he couldn't see why everyone was so excited. What an insecure little weirdo. I wondered how many of the other Slytherin were thinking along similar lines as me and how many were genuine in nodding along with Malfoy.
Distracting myself from Malfoy's conversation, I peered over at the High Table, as I knew Potter was doing at that very moment. While I can't say all the professors were exactly how I imagined them, I recognized almost all of them instantly, and felt I could make reasonably accurate guesses at the rest. I looked in particular at Professor Quirrell. It was so strange to think that Lord Voldemort was sitting right at the staff table in front of everyone. The fact that Quirrell was so young and would be dead in less than a year set a heavy stone in my gut. Trying to pull my attention away from how many people in this room would be dead by the end of the decade, I turned back to the sorting ceremony.
Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor and Blaise Zabini – a truly adorable boy I remembered would later join the Slug Club – came to Slytherin. Stomachs grumbling, we watched as Professor Dumbledore stood to say his few words.
"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
The whole school clapped and cheered; even the Slytherins did, though with a bit more snickering.
"As I was saying," Malfoy went on as the food appeared on the table. "Father says it's ridiculous that first years aren't allowed to bring our brooms to school. I've heard the state of the school brooms are completely subpar." Malfoy had – quite possibly – the poshest accent I had ever heard. British people are so silly. Across from me was the Bloody Baron, whom Malfoy was pointedly avoiding looking in the direction of. Despite his unsettling appearance and mannerisms, he was engaging in pleasant conversation with Adrian Pucey about Quidditch prospects that year.
"Don't mention it to the others," Adrian said in a low voice. "But sometimes I feel like I'm carrying that team. The other chasers are always messing around. At least the beaters are alright, but I'd like to have a little more help scoring this year. That Johnson's no joke."
"How about you, then?" said the Bloody Baron, turning to me. "A tall, lithe young lad such as yourself should make a fine chaser."
"Oh no, I couldn't," I said, feeling a bit embarrassed that I really didn't have any interest in Quidditch. "I don't play." Malfoy whipped away from his conversation at this statement to gawk at me as though I'd said I was super into eating babies. "Team sports just don't really appeal to me," I explained with a shrug.
"Maybe you could join my friends and me for a small game," Adrian said. "You might like it better than the kind of thing you'd see in a big stadium." Millicent Bullstrode was asking Adrian if she could join when Malfoy interrupted.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked, looking at me more intently now.
"I think we saw each other on the train." I swapped places with Millicent so she could continue talking to Adrian.
"Greengrass here was just telling me you've been living in foster care. Is that true?" It was difficult to tell if he was being mean or genuinely curious. I glanced at Daphne, who was taking a long sip of pumpkin juice and making intense eye contact with her mashed potatoes. Despite all available evidence, I decided to assume curiosity.
"Yes," I said. "I don't know who my parents are, if that's why you're asking."
"I don't think you have to worry about that," Daphne piped up. "After all, the hat sorted you into Slytherin." She looked quickly toward Malfoy.
"Still, it's not though all wizarding families are the same," Malfoy drawled. "Hopefully, Slytherin hasn't been infected, but just look at the Weasley's over in Gryffindor. They're purebloods, but they're still a bunch of muggle lovers."
"Into politics, are you?" I asked, trying to think of a way to push back without pushing back. The question, as expected, seemed to confuse Malfoy.
"It's not political," he said with a slight sneer. "It's just common sense."
"Well, you know how it is," said Daphne quickly. "Everything's political these days." No child would say these things unless they heard them at home. I'm not talking to Draco and Daphne; I'm talking to their parents.
"Exactly," Malfoy said. "Father's on the school's Board of Governor's, and he's been trying to get rid of this political stuff for years, but when I'm in charge, I'll put a stop to it for good."
At that moment, I had an epiphany.
You. I'm going to start by fixing you, Draco. Lucius Malfoy is going down.