the Little Aconite Flower

Catallena Nocturne was slightly disappointed to find out that the first years wouldn’t be swimming across the lake to Hogwarts. She sat in a little boat with three other students and reached down to the mirror surface of the pitch black water. Her fingers birthed gentle ripples in the still water. The glow from below her skin sparkled underwater. 

Small boats were pulled by magic towards the castle, each holding four students. The giant man sat in his own boat as he led the silent party to shore. Lanterns lit the spellbound faces of children, making the lake a spitting image of the starry sky above. 

Nobody talked. (Well, except for Neville, who was again sniffling and calling out for a lost toad.) The students sharing Catallena’s boat had gone through introductions but quieted down as the girl had approached and joined them. The other children now sat huddled on the other side of the boat so as to not end up too close to the strange lava lamp of a girl, afraid she would burn holes in their new robes or blister their skin. The unbalanced weight distribution threatened water to spill into their boat, but getting wet didn’t seem to concern them enough.

Catallena welcomed the silence. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say, anyway. Besides, the lake was more interesting. She let her hands soak in the cold water and imagined diving in. There was no place to swim at home: the fountains had dried out and the bathtubs were too small to swim in. The cold climate had frozen everything else.

The hairs at the back of her neck raised as something caressed her hand under the water. Two glinting eyes and a row of sharp teeth formed in a smile were the only things Catallena could make out in the depths, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she reciprocated, baring her own pearly teeth at the amused creature. The scaly hand holding onto her was like a whisper – just another ripple in the water. It was… nice. Friendly and comforting, almost. Catallena held onto the feeling for as long as she could before the boat disappeared into a low tunnel and then a boathouse on the school grounds.

The other students who shared her boat dashed out of the confined space and onto solid ground before the boat could even come to a full stop. They practically leapt over the gap between the platform and their boat where black water sloshed about. Catallena followed at her own pace and once again stayed at the very back of the pack of hurrying students. 

The immediate inside of the castle was cold. As they climbed from the dungeons to the upper floors of the castle, the air smelled less and less like seaweed and old mouldy books. Instead the hallways were dotted by more torches that smelled like firewood and surrounded them with warm, flickering lights. More detailed rugs and drapes clothed the stone floors and walls the further they went. 

Catallena wasn’t very surprised to see that the long corridors were covered in moving oil paintings depicting people, animals and magical creatures. After all, she owned many lovely books filled with moving illustrations. These paintings were slightly different – they looked like they depicted real people. And the curiosities didn’t end there: The paintings talked like they were alive, too! The paintings walked alongside the first years from one painting to the other and gave their introductions and ‘welcomes’. Catallena waved to some and curtsied to the others. Oh, she couldn’t wait to speak to all of them. Think of the things they’d seen! Before she could engage in any certainly interesting conversations, the portraits ushered her along so that she wouldn’t get left behind from the others.

The children walked up multiple stone staircases before a familiar face greeted them at the top. The giant man was replaced by Professor McGonagall in her elegant emerald robes and pointy black hat. The children quieted down as they craned their necks towards the witch standing at the top of the staircase. She commanded their attention with just her presence. The professor spoke very clearly in her scottish accent:

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor McGonagall, pleased to meet the new and bright faces of undoubtedly excellent future sorcerers. May your time at this school be bountiful and memorable as can be. Before you join the other students and staff for dinner in the Great Hall, you shall be sorted into your houses in the sorting ceremony. 

There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. All of which have produced outstanding wizards. Your house will act as your family throughout your studies, and at the end of each school year the house with the most points awarded for good behaviour will win the esteemed House Cup. I expect you all will be on your best behaviour, then.

The ceremony will be ready for you in a moment. Please wait here for my return.”

The witch walked through a set of doors that closed behind her, and the chatter started immediately. Catallena opted to stand at the very bottom of the stairs where no one bothered her and where the voices travelled easily to her. Many asked their new friends which house their parents belonged to or where they would like to be sorted. Catallena didn’t know which house would suit her. She really didn’t have much to go on. The promise of a family sounded nice, though.

“Slytherin is the best house. That’s definitely where I’ll be going. Just watch.”

“Everyone knows that the best witches and wizards in the world are Gryffindors. I guess Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too horrible either.”

“Both of my parents were Hufflepuffs. They said that they would be proud to have a daughter in any house. Except Slytherin.”

“My brother didn’t reveal much — just that the sorting ceremony is painful. Something about fighting a troll.” Anxiety crept up Catallena’s back at the thought of having to fight a troll. She perked up and listened more carefully, trying to pick up on that one exchange from the bunch. She looked up to see three students bickering. 

She recognized one of them as the bushy haired girl from before. “Don’t be daft, Ron. I’m sure it's some sort of test. I made sure to study a lot before I came here. Didn’t you?” she asked with her nose up in the air.

A ginger boy replied, disgruntled: “No Hermione, I didn’t. I suppose you’ll impress every teacher with your infinite knowledge while we all get sorted into the dumb people's house. Can’t wait. Come on, Harry.”

Before the tall ginger –Ron– could drag a black haired boy away, a platinum blonde boy in a perfectly pressed school uniform approached them. “So it’s true, what they said on the train. You’re Harry Potter, here at Hogwarts! And you must be… a Weasley.” His delighted smile turned into a disgusted sneer as if he had eaten something rotten. Many others had halted their own conversations to listen to the commotion. A few gasps and whispers like “It’s Harry Potter!” and “The boy who lived!” reached Catallena’s ears as well.

“You should be careful not to go making friends with the wrong sort,” the uppity boy warned Harry, looking at Ron before extending his hand into a handshake. “I could help with that. The name’s Malfoy – Draco Malfoy.” His tone had shifted to a boasting one and he smirked a winning smile at Harry.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” Harry said flatly, not taking the blonde’s hand. Just as the dumbfounded Malfoy boy was about to speak further, Professor McGonagall returned. 

“The sorting ceremony is prepared and waiting for you. Please form a–”

“TREVOR!” Neville dove at McGonagall’s feet and picked up the lost toad in a tearful reunion. Children sniggered at the sight but McGonagall wasn’t as impressed. She shooed the boy and his toad back to the cluster of kids with her mouth pressed into a thin line and deepened creases between her eyebrows.

“As I was saying, please form a nice line and follow me in an orderly fashion. Straighten yourselves up! Here we go.” All further conversations were dismissed as they all hurried to form a line. Catallena was at the very end of it as she didn’t know what to expect from the sorting ceremony or from the room they were about to enter, and that scared her. She didn’t care much to be the first one to find out.

The thick and tall double doors were pushed wide open and McGonagall had to usher the children into the room as they had been frozen with awe. One after the other they filed in and crossed to the other side of the hall, where a stool and an old hat awaited them in front of a council of older witches and wizards – the professors and staff, no doubt.

Catallena felt uncomfortable walking between long tables filled with older students, lit by floating candles. It was light enough that Catallena stayed only slightly glowy, noticeable only if you squinted. Even then, her baby blue hair did turn some heads.

The long tables were marked by the same colours the students were wearing on their uniforms. Those students kept watching the little ones pass by, and some waved their greetings to their little siblings, who were about to be sorted themselves. Catallena tried not to look at any of them directly and instead investigated the stone floor when she made her way to the gathered crowd of first years by the stool and the hat.

The hat started to sing, interestingly. It was a song Catallena hadn’t heard before and she tried to memorise it for her ghosts at home. That was until she took a closer look at the hall and noticed the night sky where the ceiling should have been. It was like the room was so impossibly tall that it reached space. She spotted and named familiar constellations in her mind. A shooting star flew over, and Catallena tried to think of something to wish for – right as McGonagall called out her name.

“Catallena Nocturne!” The woman looked straight at the startled girl and put down the scroll from which she had presumably been reading names off of. Catallena had been so enthralled by the sky that she hadn’t noticed how the song had ended or how one after the other first years were called to the stool and sorted into their houses. Only a couple remained standing with Catallena, whose neck had become sore from the odd angle at which she had been watching the sky.

McGonagall beckoned the girl over and Catallena slowly ascended the stairs to the platform in front of the whole school. It felt like something had lodged itself in Catallena’s throat as she sat down on the stool. An old man with a long silver beard at the very middle of the staff’s table watched on with intrigue and regarded the girl’s improvised bow tie with an amused expression. 

In a blink, the old musky hat was lowered over her eyes and the whole hall waited in silence.

A low voice startled her greatly. “Hmm. Well isn’t this… interesting…” The hat was talking to her. Catallena accepted it – why wouldn’t talking hats exist? She just needed to be more careful with which hats she puts on her head from now on. 

She wondered what was so interesting to the hat and got an answer: “Well you are, of course. Usually it comes to me naturally, telling which house my wearer belongs to. Comes with practice. However, this time…” 

Oh. Did the hat read her mind just now? Please stop doing that. Some of the things up here are private, she thought. The hat laughed in her mind. “Of course, of course. I’ll only be a minute.”

But the minute turned into two minutes and then three. And then it had been ten minutes and then fifteen. Twenty, even. Besides the hat’s words, she could now hear the rumbling of students and staff around her. They were talking amongst themselves, clearly not having expected the sorting to last this long. “It’s a hatstall! A momentous day! Please stay seated, everyone.” A joyous voice belonging to an old man calmed the crowds.

Meanwhile Catallena was growing exhausted from the nerves and the hat’s constant mumbling.

“...not a Gryffindor, no…not courageous or daring enough, although the heart and the chivalry are there… maybe…Hufflepuff…definitely kind, very giving…but not so loyal…you like to think for yourself, don’t you… Slytherin, then...resourceful and very powerful…but not so shrewd or cunning, no…too honest…bad judge of character, oh dear…not much ambition, huh?...it could still work…very independent and curious…perhaps Ravenclaw…far from a rule follower or a serious academic…quite clueless…pardon me for saying that…hm.

I… I feel as though putting you into one of these equally ill-fitting houses would be a disservice to you, my child. As… ashamed… as I am to admit it, I’m sorry to say that these crests don’t represent you. You aren’t a lion, eagle, snake or badger. I see with my mind’s eye a… a rabbit! Wondrous, child-like, soulful and– Oh, dear! Very melancholic, yes.To you, there’s a - a weariness and regalness of something ancient and a curiosity and innocence of a newborn. A little bunny that hops on its own path in the dark of the night – Awake when everyone else slumbers, a mere trick of the light to those who don’t look close enough. Some will, however, if I am correct… If you are who I think you are, and I am a well-respected thinking cap, of course. I look forward to seeing what kind of witch you grow up to be.

Were it up to me, I would name you… Cottontail. Nevertheless, it is not possible for me to make a whole new house besides the four existing ones that were carefully crafted by the founders of Hogwarts, so I will allow you to choose your own house from the four available ones. While not a perfect fit, I imagine you will manage in any one of them. So which one is it, child? Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin?”

Catallena thought for a little bit. She was puzzled and sad not to have the perfect house for her. She decided that she would’ve been perfectly happy being the only Cottontail at the school. She did quite like bunnies - they were always very cute in stories. Why did she need to choose a family where she didn’t belong?

“See! I told you you didn’t care for the opinions of others. You like to think for yourself.” It’s my mind. I knew that already, Catallena thought and made the hat snort a laugh. After a moment, she remembered: Which of the houses is the blue one? I like blue.

The hat cackled loudly in her head and asked if the girl was sure. “Based on the colour of the house? That’s new! You’ve confirmed my deductions.”

The hat then shouted out loud, frightening the whole hall if the shrieks and gasps were anything to go off of: “Fine then! Better be RAVENCLAW!”

A beat of shocked silence was followed by thunderous clapping from the table with the blue tablecloth and banner. McGonagall was laughing as she congratulated Catallena and transformed her robes into ones with deep blue details. A blue and silver crest with a beautiful bird appeared on the front. The professor let the bow tie be for now, even though it didn’t follow the dress code. She seemed to be humoured enough to let it slide.

The staff table clapped as well and Catallena caught a glimpse of a delighted smile and a thumbs-up from the old man in the middle before she was instructed to sit at the blue table. 

She sat at the very end and cringed inwardly as some students clapped her on the back. They seemed friendly, though. She waited for the last few students to be sorted and clapped alongside everyone else, wondering how she had daydreamed through all of this noise before being sorted herself.

The old man stood up and shuffled to the stand at the front. His lilac dress reminded Catallena of blueberry yoghurt. The stand depicted a beautiful golden owl with spread wings. The man –introduced as headmaster Dumbledore– quieted the room with a simple but demanding raise of a hand. 

“Thank you, first years, and welcome to Hogwarts. You must be famished. Before the banquet begins, however, Filch would have me remind you all that the right-hand side of the third floor corridor is strictly forbidden to those who do not wish to die the most painful death. I should also remind you that the forbidden forest is –indeed– forbidden.” At this, he glanced very pointedly at the red table and received a few ‘boo’s. 

Dumbledore simply smiled a faint knowing smile and continued: “I would like to say just a few more words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

And the tables creaked under the weight of countless plates and bowls filled to the brim with dishes like peas, potatoes, chicken, carrots, gravy, pies, noodles and mushrooms. Giggling students dug into the suddenly materialised foods and the hall was filled with clatter and chatter. 

No one really spoke to Catallena, except for the one older student next to her who asked her to pass the mashed potatoes her way. The girl was left to reflect on the headmaster’s words, which didn’t seem to make a lot of sense, yet somehow the meaning seemed perfectly clear at the same time. Oddment, indeed. 

Catallena watched people stuff their faces like they’d been starved for all summer. She decided to load some peas and carrots onto her plate, even braving some of the potatoes. The food was warm and nearly pleasant. She could almost pretend that the buttered bread roll was a donut. 

Someone at a different table screamed bloody murder. Some others leapt out of their seats as well, but seeing what the commotion was about left Catallena unfazed; Ghosts had emerged from underneath tables and behind walls. There were a good dozen of them and Catallena supposed that if she hadn’t lived with ghosts for years, she too would’ve been one of the screaming students. The ghosts wandered down tables and merrily greeted familiar older students as they passed. A few of the first years had gone completely pale and unresponsive when a ghost of a bloody man was introduced to them as the Bloody Baron. Catallena simply scooped some more of the peas onto her plate.

Later, the dishes switched themselves to desserts and Catallena about had a heart attack. Ditching her salty dinner, she excitedly bit into a pink tart that tasted curiously like cotton candy. This was more to her liking and familiarity. All she had to eat at home was desserts fit for a tea party, after all. 

The young witch once again listened to other students as they talked amongst their predetermined friend groups. Most exchanged stories about what they did over the break, and some asked the new first years what they were most excited about regarding the school. 

Catallena was asked what the Sorting hat had told her when it took so long for her to be sorted. At her silence and expression –which was like that of a deer in headlights– they asked her why she was then sorted to Ravenclaw. 

“I wanted blue.” She simply rasped after swallowing the pumpkin flavoured biscuit that she had been chewing. They just stared at her, and the boy with the badge that read ‘Prefect’ chortled a disbelieving laugh. “You wanted blue,” he confirmed with a funny face as if he didn’t believe her and a few more giggled. Catallena was left undisturbed for the rest of the feast.

The girl feasted on sweet puddings and cakes until she couldn’t eat anymore from being too full. She sipped at her pumpkin juice when students began to file out of the room. “First years follow your house’s prefects to your dormitories!” someone instructed.

Catallena snagged a couple of mint candies and dropped them into her pocket. Following the prefects was difficult at first as there were so many students. Catallena managed to find her flock, and in her attempts only got one of her plaits stepped on once in the hassle. 

They walked down a few corridors with the red bunch of kids, before they took a different turn. It seemed as though dormitories were separate and something of a secret to each house. Moreover, it seemed like the whole castle was full of secrets. Some poor kid learned that the hard way when they were climbing up one of the impossibly moving staircases and his foot suddenly vanished through a step and nearly sent him plummeting down to below the stairs. “Vanishing step. Best be careful at first. You’ll learn where to not step soon enough,” one of the prefects had explained. The rest of the trip up the stairways was slow going because the first years tested each step before taking it. 

Their common room was high up in a tower. Catallena tried to look outside at the darkened school grounds from the tower’s windows and bowed to some more paintings but was stopped in her tracks as the group gathered around a statue of an eagle. 

They were at a dead end, until they weren’t. The bird asked a question and leapt aside after hearing the answer of the prefect. “You have to answer a riddle to get past this statue,” the prefect explained after seeing the opened mouths and wide eyes of the smaller children. “Now, don’t look so scared! It’s the thought that counts – literally. Instead of trying to come up with just one correct answer that will prevent you from having to sleep out in the stairwell, you just have to voice your thoughts and the eagle will know that you’ve got the intelligent and ready mind of a Ravenclaw.” There was pride in his voice and words.

The same pride swelled in the hearts of the first years when they stepped in through the opening into a dim common room decorated by royal blue curtains, floating constellations, tall gothic windows with painted glass, bookcases and countless comfortable lounging areas. The silvery-white and deep blue room split into many different areas on different floors connected by more mahogany stairs.  

“Lots of people like to study here so no serious messing around, got that? That goes for outside the common room, too. Don’t go losing House points for reckless behaviour in classes or during breaks. Slytherin has won the House cup these last six years, those snakes! Use your brains to get lots of points for knowledge during classes and we’ll see the smirks fall off of those pudgy little faces,” the red-faced fifth year boy went on a tangent. “Anyway, girls down that staircase and boys down that other one. Your luggage will be in your designated dorm. Settle in for tonight and come to the common room early tomorrow morning, properly dressed following dress code. Professor Flitwick –our Head of House– likes to make introductions before breakfast on the first day to give you your timetables. Now, shoo!”

The children ran off excitedly as older students watched amusedly. Catallena was startled from her stupor and she descended the stairs to the short hallway containing the first year girls’ dormitories and lavatories. A door to her left was completely ajar and she noticed her own periwinkle loot at the end of a plush bunk bed. “I call the top one!” yipped a girl in pigtails as she climbed the ladder and flopped onto the bed. The neat and dreamy dorm room was big enough for four girls.

Catallena resigned into her bottom bunk after a warm blueberry scented bath. She settled into her own soft blankets as well, clad in her white and ruffly sleeping gown. The three others were giggling and whisper shouting well into the night, clearly giddy and excited at the promise of magic. Listening to the chatter of the other girls, Catallena wondered if she’d ever get used to this unfamiliar feeling. Accompanying the usual dread was a new kind of sadness as well as a stronger type of wonder. Her usually sleepy demeanour had changed into an exhausted one. Even as the laughs and shrieks of others turned into soft snores and heavy breathing, Catallena Nocturne lied awake and pondered if she would learn to feel that way too.