Sorting It Out
If Hogwarts hadn’t looked like something out of a fairy tale, she would have been terribly disappointed and perhaps even tempted to tear it down just to spite this barmy society she’d been inducted into. She’d never done anything like that before, but she felt like she could if she wanted to.
As it was, the castle lived up to its grand reputation; numerous towers that climbed towards the sky like grasping fingers, webbed by blocky ramparts and pitted by windows that gleamed like beacons in the dark. It was a picture out of fantasy transposed on reality, and Rebecca’s heart stopped hammering long enough to allow itself a brief flutter before going back to its deep, distressed beat.
Rebecca was one of the first off the train. Much to her disgust, the platform was under assault by torrential rain without a suitable shelter in sight. If her hair got frizzy, she’d be having words with whoever was responsible for planning the station’s layout.
Her heart was still beating like a drum, but she ignored it. Introspection and feelings were irritating foibles her future self could deal with.
A giant of a man with a scraggly black beard and a belly rounder and more with more girth than an elephant—at least, so she suspected—called out for first years, and she made her way towards him. Somehow, she ended up with the girl with the annoying accent at her back.
“Christ on a fuckin’ bike! That bloke’s massive! I thought Crazy Chris was hench, but he's got nothing on this guy.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. There was no escaping the girl in the bustling crowd, so she resigned herself to count to ten and back in her head.
“Righ’, this way!” The giant’s voice was loud and deep enough the other children could probably feel it in their bones.
He lead them away in the opposite direction from the older students. A crowd of waddling little ducklings thirty strong followed at his back, heads swivelling to take in their surroundings with wide eyes.
Rebecca had to resist the temptation to do the same. Hogwarts was impressive, she’d concede that much. Then again, if it was a rotten shack in the woods she would’ve been happy to attend there as long as she got to unravel the mystery she’d encountered on the train.
Speaking of which, Fortuna Floris was only a few paces ahead of her, dragging the annoying girl from their shared compartment behind her. The two of them approached a small, muddy decline at the edge of the platform at the giant man’s direction.
Rebecca observed with a raised eyebrow as Fortuna skated down the hill with the grace of a master, even while having to balance the other girl behind her. She’d watched the winter Olympics on telly a few years ago, and there were professional figure skaters who’d be jealous of Fortuna’s balance.
The girl with the annoying accent stomped down behind them with a whoop of delight and a stupid idiom Rebecca didn’t bother to parse, carrying the Boy-Whose-Name-Shall-Not-Be-Remembered in her arms.
Never one to be outdone, Rebecca simply floated down the hill. Getting soaked in the rain was one thing, but muddying her boots and robes was out of the question, thank you.
More than a few students stared at her with mouths agape as she touched down on the little pier at the bottom of the hill, but she paid them no mind. Instead, she devoted her attention to taking in the grand sight before her.
The lake was a deep, inky black, swallowing all but the twinkling stars that dotted the silhouette of Hogwarts castle. What struck her most was how it was the only source of light in sight. The thought brought her back to memories of life in London and the picture book of constellations that had never had the chance to see much use.
In the city, light pollution stole away the full majesty of the night sky. Here, that probably wasn’t the case. Would she be able to make out the nearest arm of the Milky Way and behold the sea of stars beyond?
There was a blur to her vision as she peeked at the castle through the rain.
I want to see them, she thought. Followed by one of the first inquisitive thoughts she'd had about her abilities in years: could I fly to those stars?
Astrology class had risen sharply in the ranks of her most anticipated Hogwarts activities. Seeing if she could fly to mars made its way to the very top.
Her annoyance with the weather tripled. She wanted to confirm her theories right now.
A soft touch on her arm brought her back to earth. Her feet hadn’t left the ground, but she’d felt like she’d already been flying miles higher than she’d ever dared try.
Fortuna was staring up at her with gentle eyes. “Come on. Might as well stick together,” she said.
Rebecca nodded and allowed herself to be led along by the wrist. Fortuna took them to a wooden boat, settling them between the annoying girl and the stupid girl—Jessica and Angelique if she was feeling charitable—while the nameless boy skulked at the back. She barely had time to wonder how they were supposed to cross the lake with no oars before the boat started drifting forward on its own.
Rebecca looked over the edge, but she could see no obvious engine. Then again, with the heavy rain hammering at the water, throwing the surface into chaos, it was probably no surprise that any clues as to the spell’s methods were obfuscated to her.
The use of magic for something so mundane struck her as a bit flashy, but she dismissed the thought.
It didn’t take long to cross the lake in their column of rickety old boats despite the downpour, the only real disturbance coming when the giant bellowed out a warning as they approached an overhang, and soon they were being herded into the castle itself up a set of wide stone stairs.
Fortuna was silent most of the way, and Rebecca felt no need to converse with the others, so it had been a quiet journey, and little changed when they got to the castle itself. The other students nattered away, awed at their new surroundings, while Rebecca drunk in the sights before her with a mind to savour them properly later.
Sleep was a time-wasting disease she’d never been afflicted with, so she’d have no lack of hours to pour over the images, dissecting them and wriggling her fingers around inside to find their secrets.
The giant led them to a set of wooden doors that were twice as high as he was, then left them all outside as we went to fetch a professor.
Rebecca took that moment to finally have a bit of introspection, barely registering Jessica’s silly comment about golden loos.
All in all, she felt… odd. Stronger and more negative emotions than this were supposed to rear their ugly heads after a stressful situation, but she was muted save for her hammering heart. The most notable feeling she’d had since her little dalliance with the Dementors had been that brief moment of whimsy when she beheld the majesty of Hogwarts in the night.
The great doors groaned open, and Rebecca added those thoughts to her growing “deal with it later” list.
A man who would’ve stood at eye-level with her chin emerged, and Rebecca found her eyebrows climbing to her hairline. She’d met goblins at Gringotts, but this man—presumably one of the professors—sported no hooked nose or malevolent sneer.
“Ah, good. I’m glad to see everyone here. I hope the little storm outside hasn’t dampened anyone’s spirits,” he said, his head swivelling like a fan.
Predictably, the nameless one laughed at the professor’s vapid humour, and there were a few more nervous titters among the crowd.
For her part, Rebecca just stared, willing the man to get on with it .
To his credit, he redeemed himself with a swish of his wand that sent the water on her robes and the mud on everyone else’s slithering down the stairs from which they’d come.
He introduced himself as the head of Ravenclaw, Filius Flitwick, then beckoned towards the looming doors. “Please keep up, the Sorting awaits!”
He led them to a hall alive with excited teenagers, overlooked by a high table sporting a group of colorfully-clad adults who were presumably the Professors. Before the high table sat a lonely stool, proudly presenting a shabby old hat.
“Come now, follow me,” Flitwick said.
The other children eyed the situation warily, but Rebecca was made of more studious stuff. The tradition of the Sorting had been mentioned in the Adventures of Asmodeus Longbotmes and it had been going on for centuries. When the hat started singing, she and Fortuna were the only ones who didn’t cringe in surprise.
After the hat was done with its song and the crowd was finished with its enthusiastic applause, the hall went quiet.
“When I call your name, please come up, sit down, and place the hat on your head. Amica, Louise!”
The others whispered between themselves behind her, Rebecca listening with half an ear. Assuming alphabetical order, it wouldn’t be long before her name was called.
Sure enough, “Costa-Brown, Rebecca!” Professor Flitwick called out.
There was a brief moment where Rebecca considered floating forward, but humility won out and she walked instead.
She took a seat on the stool, allowing Professor Flitwick to perch the hat on her head.
Nothing happened. Rebecca looked around, a little confused. The hat contorted and gyrated atop her skull just like it had done for the others, but it remained quiet.
She was almost to the point of asking the Professor if everything was okay when the hat bellowed out, “Slytherin!”
Rebecca kept her face carefully neutral as she approached the Slytherin table to a smattering of polite applause. From what she’d read, she was going to spend seven years showing a group of horrendous little snots what the score was—but then again, she probably would have ended up doing the same no matter what house she ended up in.
Ultimately, she decided her house meant little to her. Her interest was only in the company. One in four chances weren’t the best, but she decided to try out some optimism for a change. She barely registered Jessica joining her at the table, browbeating some other first-year out of the way so she could sit by Rebecca’s side.
It was only when the hat called out, “Gryffindor!” from atop Fortuna Floris’ head that she allowed herself to feel some modicum of anger.
The house of Slytherin was going to pay for this.
~~~