Getting Things Sorted
When the doors to the great hall opened, Dudley couldn't help but gasp. It was long, wide, and swathed in brightly colored hangings that all bore the same glittering coat of arms with four animals vying for space. On the nearest banner the lion actually stepped out of its quadrant and sat on the tassels, watching the first years’ procession expectantly. On the other wall, a snake and badger had done the same in their own banners. Further down, he noticed a raven cock its head, although that one, thankfully, didn't move more than that. The Four long tables of staring students were lit by ghostly floating candles that slowly bobbed and danced above their heads. Hot wax shimmered as it dribbled down their sides, but nothing ever seemed to hit the tables. Any glob that did fall fizzled away in a spark of light. And then there was the ceiling. Or the fact that there wasn't one. Inky night stared back down at Dudley as he cranked his neck. Even to him, this was breathtaking. Then he frowned. What did they do when it rained? And the castle had definitely been bigger than this. Shouldn't he be able to see the towers? Somewhere nearby a girl was muttering about enchantments and illusions, but she was shushed before Dudley could parse her hurried whispers.
The first years were marched down the aisle between the tables until they came to a stop in front of a fifth one that ran along the back wall of the hall. Framed by marvelous stained glass windows, this was where an eclectic mess of what must be the teachers sat, all beaming down at them. All privately sizing them up no doubt. Dudley knew the glances some of them gave him. He got them all the time from substitutes in primary. The look of a teacher who knew in an instant that he was trouble.
The steel-eyed Professor McGonagall, who had been escorting their group, produced a tall stool and a battered wizard hat that looked to have more patches than original fabric. With great ceremony, she placed the hat on the stool and stood back. Everyone watched it. Dudley suppressed a snort. What was so special about an old hat? Then it moved. Two creases blinked like eyes and a wide rip at the brim started to move like a mouth. The hat stretched, coughed, and started 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….
Dudley quickly stopped paying attention. He could easily guess that this was going to be another lesson on the Hogwarts houses. He'd had enough of that on the train. Some twin girls had spent the first two hours guessing at what everyone would be put in. He'd gotten the gist. The griffin one was for bravery. The raven was smarts. Slithers or whatever it was called took the creepy or ambitious. Then the rest went to Hufflepuff, presumably because noone actually wanted to be in the house with the stupidest name.
Instead, he turned his attention to the long line of staff in front of him. They were a strange lot. At the leftmost seat was the great gigantic Hagrid, the sight of whom still sent an embarrassing shiver down Dudley's spine. He couldn't quite get free from the terror of the night he broke down that shack's door. Then there was a miniature man who nonetheless has a full beard, a plump woman with wild hair stuffed under a pointed hat…
Dudley’s eyes drifted along the row. At the other end of the table, two men were looking, not at the still singing hat, but at the pool of first years. The first was thin and weak chinned, wearing one of those turban thingys that always made his dad grumble. His expression was odd, nervous, almost fearful. The other was black-clad, hook-nosed and sallow-skinned. And he was looking at the group with a far more murderous glint in his eye.
Dudley flinched as he briefly met the second man's gaze. He squinted at him… and scowled. Dudley quickly looked elsewhere. Something about that scowl unnerved him and this was no time to be unnerved. In the middle of the table was an old man. He was sitting in a gaudy, golden seat that was about as close to a throne that you could get without having to declare yourself king. He must be the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He was also surveying the children, albeit with a more kindly gaze. Bright blue eyes flashed behind his half-moon glasses as he smiled placidly at them. Dudley's first instinct was to imagine him as a doddery grandfather, but something in that image snagged. This was a man who seemed to know exactly what you thought of him.
The sorting hat had finished its singing. Professor McGonagall picked it up and shook open a long scroll as the room filled with thunderous applause.
“When I call your name, you will step forward and I will place the hat on your head.” she said, “Abbot, Hannah”
A round faced girl moved nervously towards the stool. She sat down and her head was almost completely covered by the hat. There was a few seconds of eager silence. Then the hat bellowed “Hufflepuff” and Hannah bounded to the cheering table, the lapels of her robes now blooming a brilliant canary yellow. Whatever nerves had been tickling the back of Dudley's mind vanished. This looked easy. You just put on a magic hat.
Boot, Brocklehurst, Brown, and Bulstrode each took their turns on the stool and disappeared to one of the four tables. Dudley realised that some of the whispering behind him came from older students taking bets. He supposed it must be what passed for entertainment here. Though there wasn't much time for discussion with ‘Crabbe, Vincent.’ He was declared a Slytherin almost as soon as the hat was on.
“Dursley, Dudley.”
At the sound of his name, Dudley pushed through the crowd and stumped up to the stool. For a brief moment his eyes met professor Dumbledore's. The old man had leaned forward slightly in his seat. He smiled at Dudley. The kind of smile that seemed to say he knew something Dudley didn't. Somewhat spooked, Dudley turned around and quickly sat on the stool. The hat was dropped on his head and he saw only the dark inside of its brim. He waited. And then a voice spoke low in his ear.
“Ah… Interesting.”
Dudley jumped, earning himself a few twitters from the whispering crowd. The hat hadn't spoken to the others. Why him?
“I talk to all of the heads that don me. Just a little quieter. That's all. And don't hang your mouth open like that, I'm trying to place you.”
It was reading his mind! A shiver of revulsion ran down Dudley's spine. He didn't want some grubby hat knowing his every thought. The urge to rip it off there and then built, but the hat sighed in his ear and said,
“Don't be hasty. I'm not going to addle you. Not that Ravenclaw would take you anyway. Not the brightest mind here.”
“Hey!” Dudley mumbled,
“Not very brave either. Gryffindor is definitely out. So that leaves…
Ah, Hufflepuff always made a point of taking anyone into her house, but I see there is a vicious streak in you that gentle Helga wouldn't have touched. Slytherin would admire it though… And that thirst for power. Of course, certain circumstances mean… But I see no other choice. I have done it before… well then,
SLYTHERIN!!!”
The hat bellowed the last word for all the hall to hear and a loud cheer rose up from the table on the far left. Dudley pulled the talking hat off his head and sauntered over. He hadn't put much stock in the houses. They didn't normally mean anything, so he'd assumed that all the talk about bravery and cleverness was just superstition. Healthy rivalry, as his dad would call it. But that hat had actually read his mind, and dissected it right in front of him. Squeezing onto a bench, he shared an uncertain grin with Vincent Crabbe sitting opposite. That boy looked alright, but now that Dudley was paying attention the rest of the people at the Slytherin table had an austere, mean look to them. Hadn't the hat said this house liked a vicious streak. Then again, Dudley didn't think he had a vicious streak, so maybe it wasn't as all-knowing as it thought it was. Still, the older Slytherins were definitely giving the new additions an appraising look and when he glanced back at the staff table, the black-clad teacher – placed with a perfect view down the house table – was glaring at him with cold fire in his eyes.
The sorting continued and the tables filled up quickly. Vincent Clearly knew Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy already. They all put their heads together the moment Draco sat down. Eventually, the name Dudley knew must be coming was called.
“Potter, Harry. ”
Whispers raced around the hall. The Slytherins especially seemed to bunch up into short conversations.
“I forgot he'd be starting this year.”
“Do you think we'll get him? There are rumors…”
“You don't honestly believe that twaddle do you?”
“Well it would explain…”
“What do you say, five sickles he's Gryffindor.”
“I'm not stupid enough to take that”
McGonagall actually had to call for silence again before she dropped the hat over his eyes. Dudley craned his neck, as if he might be able to hear the hats musings if he only edged a bit closer. He wasn't the only one. The entire school seemed to think the most important question ever asked was what house Harry bloody Potter belonged to.
Dudley didn't care about his cousin's status as the boy who lived. He'd heard the story from the giant and the other kids on the train and the creepy old man in the wand shop. It didn't sound at all right to him. He knew there was nothing special about that runt, except for how especially gangly he was. No. All Dudley cared about was that Harry was put in a different house to him. That way he might get some peace.
It took a while. What little of Harry's face was visible looked tight and panicky. The whole room held its breath. Then,
“Gryffindor!” The hat shrieked.
The table furthest from them exploded with cheers and shouting. Two red-headed teens were screaming “We got Potter!” over and over again at the top of their lungs.
“Shame,” muttered Draco, “I wondered if we might get him.”
Dudley snorted, “It's better like this. He's a prat. Can't keep his mouth shut.”
“What? Do you know him?”
Draco was staring at Dudley, clearly confused, but, before he could explain, the room was called to silence again.
The rest of the sorting went by without much excitement and by the time Blaise Zabini had joined the Slytherin table, Dudley was bitterly wishing he'd stuffed some sweets into his pocket. His amazement at the castle and the hall had masked his growing hunger, but now that was wearing off. The elderly headmaster stood and raised his hands to catch the school's attention.
“Welcome, welcome all of you. Now I just want to say a few words before our feast; nitwit, oddment, blubber, tweak.”
Perhaps Dudley had been wrong. Maybe he really was just a doddering old grandad. But at least they would finally get to eat. He turned back to the table and his mouth fell open. Instead of being brought in by serving staff, huge piles of food had just appeared out of nowhere. Towers of potatoes, yorkshire puddings, and peas were in every direction. Vincent and Gregory were already nabbing slices of roast beef. It all smelled divine. Soon everyone had piled their plates high and several of the slytherin first-years started to interrogate those they didn’t recognise at the table. There weren’t many of them. The slytherins seemed to be a very self-contained bunch. The only other real distraction was a terrified girl called Tracey, who it turned out had expected to be put in Ravenclaw. This revelation seemed to make her a lot less interesting, so it didn’t take long for someone to turn the conversation to Dudley.
“I’ve not heard of the Dursley’s before. Are you from overseas?” Milicent Bulstrode asked.
Dudley shook his head, “I’m from Surrey.”
“Oh.” She looked a little disappointed, “I don’t suppose your family is very prestigious then. Else I’d have heard of you.”
“Mill!” Scoffed another girl – Pansy, he thought.
“Well it’s true.”
“But you can’t say it.”
Dudley stared at her. What the hell did she mean, not prestigious. Sure, it’s not like he was down for Eton, but Smeltings had a good name. And they had connections – his dad had made sure he knew about all the Dursley extended family so he could band it about. Anger surged through him. But he wasn’t stupid enough to punch another kid in front of the entire school staff.
“Maybe you don’t know every family worth knowing. My Aunt Marge owns land out in Devon.”
Everyone laughed at that.
“Ohhhh.” Drawled Draco, “That is precious. We all own land here, Dursley. Well, those worth knowing do.” He flashed a knowing grin around the table before snapping his attention back to Dudley.
“You know, earlier it sounded like you knew Harry Potter. Is he as much of a wimp as he looks?”
Dudley sighed. He knew it would come out eventually. When he let it slip on the train the rest of the carriage hadn’t shut up about his cousin. A part of him had hoped they could go about pretending to not even know each other, but there was no escaping it now.
“Yeah. He’s my cousin. He lives with us now. Not that we’re happy about it. He makes everything horrible. Ruined my birthday this year when he made the glass disappear from a snake tank.”
This statement did not elicit the clamouring questions that it had before. Instead, the others all stared at him, confusion evident on their faces. Dudley frowned.
“What?” He demanded.
“But I heard…” Draco said, his voice stiff and dangerous, “That Harry Potter had gone to live with muggle relatives.”
“Mug– oh you mean normal people. Yeah, no one in my family’s a wizard. Unless you count my dead aunt. But I never knew her and it sounds like she wasn’t really family.”
He stabbed a chipolata with his fork, oblivious to the growing looks of horror, revulsion, and disbelief on his housemates faces.
“You're… A muggleborn.” Draco said slowly.
Dudley nodded, then frowned. He didn't like the way Draco had said it. Like it meant he was dirt. Draco scoffed.
“I don't believe it. The hat must have made a mistake. A muggleborn in Slytherin!”
His voice rose steadily as he spoke. The older students caught it and a terrible silence spread up the table. Followed by a hurried whispering.
“Muggleborn?”
“Which one? That fat one? I thought he looked clueless.”
“It must be a mistake.”
Draco's face had twisted with disgust. “I'm not living with him in my dormitory. Wait till my father hears about this. He'll have you moved in with the other mudbl–”
“Shush!”
An older girl with sleek blonde hair hissed across the table at him. She was sitting closest to the first-years and had until now been holding herself with perfect posture. But whatever Draco had been about to say had caused her to grip the table so tight it looked like she was preparing to throw it at him.
“We don't say that stuff out in front of everyone. Don't you know anything about basic decorum, Malfoy?”
Draco flushed pink and opened his mouth to retort, but the girl cut him off. She tugged at the front of her robes so that an emerald colored badge caught the light.
“I'm your prefect. So you listen to me. Hogwarts is not like your home. The common room is safe, but out here… Jacob Price was expelled for that stuff when McGonagall caught him.”
“Come on Gemma,” another voice sounded for further on, “Jacob wasn’t expelled for saying anything. He was caught cursing first years.”
“So? He’d’ve gotten away with just detentions if they hadn't realised they were all muggleborn.”
Dudley felt sick. He didn't know what Draco had been about to call him, but it had clearly been a lot worse than muggleborn. He didn't even like that term. It felt weird; different. The sort of thing he'd spent his life learning to snicker at. Was it too much to just say he came from a normal family?
Apparently so. And the rest of the table seemed to think it was a very big problem. Fiery glares were boring into him from all sides. All of a sudden, he didn't feel hungry. Were they all going to curse him like this Jacob would have? How painful were they willing to make them? By the looks on some of their faces, very.
Gemma and Draco were still glaring at each other, but the prefect was winning. Eventually Draco dropped his gaze and she humphed in approval.
“Anyway,” she said, eyes now fixed on Dudley, “It isn't completely unheard of. One of you in here, I mean. My mum said there was one in the year below her. Apparently, they tend to do very well. Once they realise how lucky they are to be in the right house. We'll give you a chance, Dursley. Just don't push it.”
There was a moment of quiet where it was clear that noone else thought he deserved a chance to prove himself. Then Daphne, a girl with elaborate ringlets and wide eyes, spoke up.
“What's your wand wood?”
“My… What?”
“The wood your wand is made from.” she said plainly, ignoring the derisive snickers from some of the boys, “What kind is it?”
Dudley frowned and tried to think back to that dusty wand shop. The creepy shop owner had rambled for ages, but he was pretty sure;
“Willow. And a bit of dragon heart.” he eyed her suspiciously, “why?”
She thought for a moment, then nodded. “It’s not very common. And it’s not one that rejects the… harsher… arts. It means you have a lot of potential. It suits ambition, so maybe you will be a good Slytherin. Even despite the muggle thing.”
Draco scoffed and muttered something about “wand lore-ists” but a lot of the other first years were nodding. Dudley wasn't sure why, but that seemed to have settled it. He was dimly aware that there was a vague threat behind the promise of a chance, but he was here to prove himself anyway. It wouldn't be long before he was top of the pack. And then he could wipe that angry sneer from Draco's face.
The feast continued in relative peace. Dudley was left alone to push his last sausage around his plate. For all his confidence that he could prove himself, he had always been careful to pick his fights. At primary school he'd figured out that if he beat up the smaller kids, the ones that could stand a chance wouldn't risk it. Here, it was clear that he was the runt. A flicker of annoyance burned in his gut. Why had that stupid hat put him here? The other houses didn't look half as tricky. In part, because their pupils didn't look as much like him.
Dessert came and went and Professor Dumbledore stood to give some peculiar warnings about the forest and the third-floor corridor. Then he conducted them in a horrendous cacophony that he called the school song and, finally, sent them to bed. The prefect, Gemma Farley, gathered all the first years about her and marched them out of the hall and down a staircase that took them into what looked like some sort of dungeon. The air was certainly cooler down here. They walked through low-lit corridors dotted with suits of armour and paintings that moved just like the banners had in the great hall. Gemma took them down a second flight of steps then curved back around so that Dudley had completely lost track of their position relative to the rest of the castle. Eventually, she stopped in front of a completely blank stretch of wall and turned to them.
“This,” she announced, “is the entrance to our common room. Now it's hard to spot, but the older students will show you if you lose it. What they won't do, though, is give you the password. Forget that and you're in trouble. You can never be sure that another student isn't just wearing some green lined robes and nobody wants to be the one to let in the first intruder in over a century.
Anyway, the first password of the year is… Serpentine!”
For a moment, nothing happened. Dudley wondered briefly if Gemma had gotten them lost or even gone a bit mad. But as her voice echoed along the corridor, the wall started to ripple and change. The neat stones wriggled and writhed and sank into the wall, quickly pulling back to reveal an stone arch with an ornate mahogany door set into it. Several people gasped as they took in the intricately carved snake coiled on the central panel. Dudley swore it winked at them. Gemma grinned like she had been the one to enchant the wall herself.
“Okay then. Everyone in.”
The common room was bathed in dim green light by glass lamps that swung on chains from the ceiling. High-backed, button tufted chairs and sofas were set out in close groups all around the room beside dark wood tables. Here, the walls were filled with paintings and tapestries, all with moving figures who seemed to hurry into each other's frames to get a close look at the house’s newest students. But what caught Dudley’s attention – and indeed the attention of everyone else in the group – was the windows on the far wall. Like the great hall, they were vaulted, calling to mind a cathedral Dudley had been forced to walk around on a field trip. But unlike the great hall, they were clear glass and they looked out onto an impossible, dense inky black that pressed in so much more than a simple night. Someone murmured something about the great lake. For a moment everyone stared transfixed, and then several shrieked as a large tentacle moved past the windows. In the odd light being shone from the room it looked shadowy and indistinct, but it was unmistakably that of a massive sea creature.
“Looks like we have a visitor.” Gemma said with a chuckle, “That's the giant squid; she likes to say hello. For those who don’t know, the view from those windows is underneath the lake here. All sorts of creatures like to come and say hello. But that can wait for the morning.”
She clapped her hands in a businesslike way, and pointed at a notice board right beside the door they came in from.
“The current password is always posted there. Make sure you check it regularly, as it changes every fortnight. You’ll find your dormitories here and here.” She pointed again, “Boys on the left. Girls on the right. You’ll find the right dorm easy enough, they’re all numbered. Oh, and at the end of the dorm corridors you’ll find another door that lets you out right below the great hall. It's a handy shortcut, but you can’t get back in that way. Everyone comes in through the wall. Got that?” She smiled at them all warmly, “Well then. Welcome to the noble house of Slytherin. And goodnight.”
The dormitory was much like the common room; all green hangings and dark wood. Six four-poster beds were set against the walls, each with a different boy’s luggage already sitting at the foot of the bed. The other boys all fanned out to their beds. That stiffness from the feast was back. Everyone seemed to be very focused on finding their pyjamas and organising their belongings. Dudley found his own trunk in front of the bed in the far corner. He fumbled with the clasp, throwing it open with a loud thunk. A layer of neatly folded robes and underwear greeted him. His mum had packed for him and he had no idea where she might have put his PJs. The pristine stacks of set books toppled as he groped around fruitlessly. Where the hell were –
“Flipendo!”
Draco’s furious shout echoed around the small room. Dudley span around, fists raised. The weaselly kid was standing with his wand pointed straight at him. His face had flushed pink again and his teeth were bared in a snarl. When it was clear that whatever spell Draco had tried hadn’t done anything, he scoffed and threw his wand onto his bed. Dudley grinned. Even the kids raised as wizards couldn’t cast magic yet. So right now, all anyone had was their fists.
“Think you’re clever, mudblood? Think you can just waltz into our house and – and – sully it! Wait till my father hears about this. He’ll – Arghhh.”
Dudley had punched him. It felt so good. The familiar moment where his fist connected with the little welp’s face. It was exactly what he had come here for; power.
Except he was immediately thrown backwards onto the floor by both Greggory and Vincent, who immediately started throwing punches of his own. Dudley yelled, two against one wasn’t fair – especially when he was the one. The scuffle spread out to the other boys too, as an exasperated looking Theodore and Blaise tried to pull the two brutes off of him. Eventually Theodore managed to get in between everyone and (after taking a meaty fist to the gut) shouted for them to stop.
“Knock it off guys.” Theodore growled.
Greggory and Vincent looked confused. When they grunted out a response, it was in unison “He went for Draco.”
“Yeah. Well Draco started it, and he couldn’t back his words up.”
This got a response from the corner where the blonde boy had been cowering.
“Are you serious Theo? Are you actually fine with a filthy thing like that sleeping in the same room as you?” He wasn’t shrieking, but his voice still shook with a hysterical rage.
“I just want to go to bed each night without it becoming some kind of brawl.” Theodore retorted.
“Besides,” added Blaise, “The others might be right. Maybe he’ll turn out to be one of the good ones if you let him.”
God! Dudley was done with people talking about him like he wasn’t even there. Even Blaise and Theodore's lukewarm defences rankled him. He was, admittedly, grateful that they had stopped Vincent and Greggory from pummeling him to a paste, but there was still this idea that he was something to be dealt with. Something you had an opinion on. He heaved himself up, grabbing his trunk for support as his aching body protested and snapped at them all.
“I can defend myself, thanks.”
“Barely.” Theodore muttered.
“You can, can you.” Draco sneered.
Dudley pointed to the angry red mark on his cheek. “Want me to give you a matching one? Even it up for you.”
Draco’s friends shifted as if they wanted to go for him again, but Draco raised a hand to stop them.
“It’s alright. Dursley just thinks he’s being clever.”
“Dudley.”
“What?”
“My name is Dudley. Or did you get confused by McGonagall putting our surnames first. Didn’t think you were that thick, but I’ve been wrong before.”
“Tch. Unlike your petty little muggle owning-a-bit-of-land-is-the-best-we-can-do family, the Malfoy’s actually pay attention to family legacies.” Draco smiled smugly, “I suppose it can’t matter as much when you’re the first one to be of any importance.”
Dudley scowled. Yes his dad liked to brag about their family connections, but he had also made it clear that you had to earn that right. He was a successful businessman and did everything he could to set Dudley up for that too. Yes, it had seemed quite complicated at the time, picking apart what did and did not count as a good enough reason to be successful, but he had a feeling that, wizard or not, Draco wouldn’t be on the list.
“Well my family think you need to prove yourself before you hide behind your daddy’s name. I’ve heard a lot about what he’s going to do when you tell him about me, but what are you going to do? Cry?”
“How dare you!”
“Because I,” Dudley paused ever so briefly, ordering his thoughts as he put in place the jumbled desires and fears that had led to him actually asking to be allowed to come here, “I know what I am going to do. I’m going to learn every single spell I can that hits harder than my fist and if you ever insult my family again… I’ll use them all on you.”
Blaise gasped loudly. He must think there was no way Draco would let that slide, but to the surprise of everyone in the room, he actually backed away. It was just two steps, but he did it. Dudley watched him, still high on adrenaline and rage, but not quite trusting this apparent submission. Draco snarled.
“I’d like to see you try.” Then he paused, thinking. “Now there's an idea. How about we… put a pin in this discussion until later.”
“Wh– What?”
“Do muggles have duels? You must have some equivalent. Well, I propose a wizard duel. A proper one to be held at the end of the year. Let's say… the evening after exams finish. We both get the whole year to prepare, and then we’ll see if you really are worth allowing a place here.”
Dudley thought for a moment. His gut instinct was to assume that this was a trick, but he couldn’t see it. It certainly wasn’t a promise to back off during the year, just an organised fight at the end of it. But he’d win that for sure, and with the promise of a chance to deal with him somewhat officially Draco might not come for him quite as strong in the year.
It would feel good to win formally for once rather than stealing punches behind the school bins.
“Alright. You’re on.”