The Hat
Asha stared around, wide-eyed. She’d seen some cool things, growing up as a half-blood, but this place topped the list. And it was just the train platform. She was suddenly excited to see the castle. Yeah, Red Rock Academy had been cool, but it was cool in the same way Adelaide University was. It was modern, and looked like a place to go when you wanted to learn exactly what you signed up for. Hogwarts was a literal castle. She couldn’t wait to see it.
A lantern light came bobbing towards where she was standing with Harry and Ron. Soon, it materialised into an enormous man with a bushy black beard and small, bright eyes.
“He looks like my uncle Jack,” she muttered, leaning over to Harry, who snorted. The giant looked in their direction and waved, calling out ‘Alrigh’ there, Harry?’ Harry nodded, and the giant man nodded back before turning away and calling out over the heads of the crowd.
“Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here! C’mon, follow me now. Any more firs’-years? Mind yer step now. Firs’-years follow me!”
They trailed after the man, who introduced himself as Hagrid, the Gamekeeper and Groundsman of Hogwarts. The path swiftly narrowed and grew steeper, and soon the entire first-year cohort was sliding and scrabbling down the slope towards a vast, flat expanse of black.
“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ glance o’ Hogwarts in a sec, jus’ ‘round this bend, ‘ere.”
Several people in front of them ‘ooh’ed and ‘aah’ed as they rounded the corner in the gap between two large boulders, and soon Asha was doing the same. She squeaked in excitement when she saw the castle, and had to take a deep breath to stop herself from buzzing so much she caused a magical accident or summoned a swarm of bees. Across the vast black nothingness, which she thought might be a lake, sat an enormous stone castle, perched on the side of a mountain with the windows awash in warm golden light. Just looking at the brightness of those windows made her feel warmer, as though she were sitting in front of a campfire on the beach, surrounded by her dormmates. They’d been allowed weekend trips, once or twice, and every time there’d been a choice, they’d collectively chosen to go to the nearest beach that wasn’t covered in mangroves – which just so happened to be in the middle of Winnowie Conservation Park.
They’d spent the trips laughing, starting sandball fights, swimming, playing beach cricket, and roasting marshmallows, and when they’d tuckered themselves out, they’d dried off by the fire and set up their camp stretchers and swags and slept off what was left of the night. They’d been the highlights of her year, until . . . Hagrid’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, and she tuned back into reality in time for him to explain their transport across the aptly-named Black Lake.
“No more’n four to a boat,” Hagrid called, climbing into his own little dinghy, which immediately settled lower in the water and appeared one rogue wave away from sinking. Harry and Ron made a beeline for a boat, and she followed along behind them, sliding into a bench next to Harry. Neville slid in next to Ron, and then Hagrid was calling out again.
“Everyone in? Righ’ then – FORWARD!” The boats rocked gently as they glided away from shore, and Neville squeaked and leaned away from the edge, staring down at the dark water in open fear.
“Heads down!” Came Hagrid’s sudden cry from ahead, and then the boats were drifting into a low, vine-hung tunnel. The passage stretched on into the dark for a few minutes, the only light coming from Hagrid’s lantern and a hurried Lumos she’d cast when Ron nearly brained himself on an outcropping in the wall. Eventually, the passage widened out into a chasm, with stone docks hewn into the rock and a twisting staircase leading up to a door in the wall. Hagrid clambered out of his boat and ascended, stopping short of rapping his knuckles on the door.
“Everyone ‘ere? Righ’ then.” He turned and rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, which swung open without a sound to reveal a stern-looking witch with grey-streaked black hair pulled up into a tight bun. Her emerald green robes glistened faintly in the candlelight as she moved, and as Asha looked up at her, she thought that she looked quite similar to the Potion Mistress at Red Rock. That woman had been a lovely conversationalist, and was actually quite soft once you got to know her, but from the look of her, you wouldn’t know it.
“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said with a sweeping gesture to their little huddle down on the quay.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take it from here.” She opened the door wide and Hagrid stepped aside. Both wixen stared down at their group expectantly, and Asha squared her shoulders, noticing no-one else was going to step forward, and started up the steps. Ron and Harry followed along behind her, and everyone else seemed to take a cue from that and began trailing up the steps. She nodded to McGonagall as she passed, and the woman dipped her head in reply.
The entrance hall was enormous, almost as big as the dining hall at Red Rock Academy had been. Which was, she figured, an indicator of the size of the student body. Australia’s Wixen population was only 20% of its total population, and of that number, only 50% of Wixen children attended Red Rock Academy. Which meant that there was an average fifteen hundred students across the entire eight years. So, if the Hogwarts entrance hall was large enough to house the Red Rock dining hall, how many students did it have? And how big was the Dining Hall?
She was brought out of her musings by McGonagall turning to address the group of students. Asha was surprised that she hadn’t noticed the group moving into a different room, but shrugged it off as her being deep in thought.
“Welcome to Hogwarts. 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 its own outstanding witches and wizards. While you are here, 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 honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house you are sorted into.
“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 while you wait.” McGonagall cast a critical eye around the room, lingering more on some students than others. “I shall return when we are ready for you; please wait quietly.”
She swept out of the chamber, and the door closed silently behind her. The room immediately burst into hushed chatter, with several conversations within her earshot turning to the same topic – the Sorting method. Ron was panickedly explaining to Harry that his brothers had told him that they had to fight a Troll. Asha swallowed a snort, but a small wheezing puff of air escaped her mouth. Ron and Harry both turned to look at her expectantly.
“Your brothers are full of shit,” she said when she’d gained more control of her breathing.
“What makes you say that?” He asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
“For starters, do you really believe for a second that they would make first-years who don’t know a single spell fight a monster that was classified as an XXXX-level threat? And that has naturally magic-resistant hide?”
Ron blanched, and Harry swallowed his own cough of laughter, with little success.
“For another thing, the Red Rock Sorting Ceremony was us lining up and taking turns to put our hands on a crystal orb. Our House Mascot would appear as an illusion above the ball.” Several other nearby conversations had petered out to listen to her explanation, and then the chatter came back, even louder than before as the speculations changed. Ron suddenly looked a lot more confident, and several other people looked soothed by the fact that they likely weren’t going to be anything so dangerous. Then, someone at the back of the room screamed. Asha whirled around to look, wand in hand, and then barked a short laugh when she saw the cause.
Ghosts of all sizes were drifting through the far wall, chattering amongst themselves. She slipped her wand back into her sleeve holster again as a portly man dressed in monk robes turned to a man with a ruff placed oddly around his neck.
“Forgive and forget, I say; we ought to give him a chance-”
“My dear Friar,” the man in the ruff replied, hovering to a stop and turning to face the monk completely. “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 all of you doing here?”
No-one said anything for a long moment, seeming too stunned to do so, so Asha sighed and waved a hand, before gesturing around the room.
“We’re the first-years.”
The monk ghost cheered, grinning widely.
“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know.”
“Move along now,” McGonagall’s sharp voice came from behind them, and Asha turned to look at the stern woman. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”
The ghosts grumbled, but floated on through the opposite wall, apparently into the Great Hall.
“Now, form a line and follow me.” With that, McGonagall turned on her heel and strode from the room. Asha was stuck in the middle of the line, behind the bossy girl from earlier. At least Harry and Ron were right beside her. They trailed out of the side room and across the entrance hall, then into a hall that appeared to be roughly the size of the entrance hall, if not smaller. Four long tables sat in rows, taking up most of the still-enormous room, and a raised dais on the opposite side of the room from the doors housed another, longer table that it appeared all of the professors were seated at.
She looked up, and smiled as she saw candles suspended near the apparently see-through ceiling. She wondered at them for a moment, then decided they must have been hung there by some modified version of the Leviosa charm. In front of her, the bossy brunette was chattering away at Neville, talking about the star-filled ceiling. They’d had something remotely similar at Red Rock; the ceiling hadn’t been enchanted, but it had been painted in spelled colours to mirror the lights of the Aurora Borealis each night.
“It’s enchanted to look like the sky outside,” the girl prattled. “I read all about it Hogwarts: A History.”
McGonagall placed a tattered old hat on a stool in the center of the dais, and then instructed the first-years to form a line before it. The room was still for a moment, as though waiting for something, and then the hat twitched, shook itself out, opened a small tear near the brim that appeared to be a mouth of some sort, and began to sing in a scratchy, slightly of-key voice.
“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 of 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 read 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 hall burst into applause as the Hat finished its song, and then McGonagall was stepping forwards again, this time with a roll of parchment.
“When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and place the hat on your head. Abbot, Hannah!”
A tall, willowy girl with blonde pigtails stumbled forwards, slipping on the hat – which was so large on her that it slid down over her eyes – and sat down on the stool. A few moments later, the Hat cried ‘Hufflepuff!’ and she hurried off to join her new house. Bones, Susan went to join Hannah at the Hufflepuff table, and then it was time for Boot, Terry.
“RAVENCLAW!”
The small, black-haired boy practically apparated to his table, and slid into place at the end of a long bench as though he’d always belonged there. Brocklehurst, Mandy went to Ravenclaw as well, and then Brown, Lavender went to Gryffindor. She glanced across at Harry, who was looking a little ill, and then patted him on the shoulder, muttering quietly to him.
“Don’t panic. You belong here, man. You’re not going to be told to go home.”
He flashed her a small grin, and seemed a little calmer after that. Bludstrode, Millicent went to Slytherin, and the green-and-silver table clapped politely as she joined their number. Finch-Fletchley, Justin went to Hufflepuff, and then Finnegan, Seamus went to Gryffindor. After Granger, Hermione – the bushy-haired, bossy girl from the train – was sorted into Gryffindor, she stopped paying attention, instead taking the time to survey the teachers. They were an odd, mixed bunch, she thought. Much the same as they had been back at Red Rock, although with a lesser mix of skin tones. There, they’d had the dark, chocolate tones of the First Peoples mixed in with the tanned and pale tones of the more English-based cultures. It’d been quite interesting, at first, and she’d enjoyed the mix of accents and the way they’d spiced up the classes, but after a while everything blended into the monotony of school and things began to lose their novelty.
She tuned back into the Sorting just as Potter, Harry was called, and the hall erupted into whispers.
“Potter, did she say?”
“The Harry Potter?”
Asha glanced over her shoulder, then focused back on the Sorting as the Hat slipped down over Harry’s eyes, almost to his mouth. He was sitting there for almost five minutes – beating out Hermione’s previous two for the longest Sorting so far – before the Hat seemed to come to a decision and bellowed ‘Gryffindor’ with an air of finality that said it would have rather preferred a different outcome. Then, suddenly, her name was being called.
“Rey, Asha!”
She stepped calmly out of line, sinking onto the stool as the Hat descended over her eyes.
“Hmmm . . . Well, hello. This is unusual.” A voice echoed quietly inside her head, the tone rich and deep in a way that spoke of great wisdom.
“Hello yourself. Am I unusual because of my mental status or because I already have some schooling?” She replied, her lip curling into a small grin.
“Both, I suppose. It is unusual for me to Sort a mind that has already been sorted once before, although I suppose that a previous Sorting should make my job that much easier.” The Hat mused. She chuckled.
“I suppose so. Well, then. Anything of interest?”
“A good mind for practical work, that much is obvious, and a strong will to live life the way you wish to live it. You’ll do anything to achieve your goal, even if it means making an enemy or three in the process. As I can see you have already done . . . ”
“Hey! A little private, don’t you think?”
“Oh, of course, my apologies. But really, I think you ought to go to-”
“SLYTHERIN!” The last word was cried aloud, and she jumped at the sheer volume of it. She pulled the hat off of her head to see Harry looking at her in distress. She shrugged, flashed him a quick grin, and walked off to sit with her new housemates. She slid in next to the blond from earlier – Draco, she thought his name was – because that was the only seat available. He flinched away from her slightly as she slid into place, and she had to bite back an irritated huff.
Ron was swiftly sorted into Gryffindor, and she flashed him a grin and a thumbs-up as he walked past the Slytherin table. He was refusing to look at her. Draco, on her right, had apparently gotten some of his bravado back, and was starting to complain about having to sit next to a supporter of a ‘filthy blood-traitor’. Soon, though, the last student was sorted (Zabini, Blaise, into Slytherin), and a man at the head table got to his feet. He had a long, silver beard and star-speckled purple robes, and twinkling eyes that shone from behind his half-moon spectacles. The room fell silent as he raised his hands.
“Welcome!” The man said, his voice ringing strong and clear throughout the room. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”
As the headmaster sat down, applause burst from every table except Slytherin. Ashe leaned over to whisper to Draco as food appeared on the platters before them.
“Who the fuck was he, and what the fuck was that?”
Draco blinked at her, affronted, and then replied in a snooty, imperious voice.
“That was Albus Dumbledore, the school’s Headmaster. It was also his idea of a welcoming speech.”
Asha nodded.
“Ah, alright then. Thank you. Is he- is he mad, or just odd?”
“My father is of the impression that he’s both. I’m inclined to agree.”
“I’m afraid I share the sentiment,” she replied mildly, filling her plate with sliced pork and steamed vegetables. As she was pouring peas and gravy over her meat, she thought over her day. It’d been relatively quiet, aside from the two confrontations on the train. And she thought she’d made two new friends, but with the way Ron had acted, maybe she was down one already. She didn’t know what she’d done to offend the redhead, but he had been very determinedly ignoring her.
The rest of the meal passed in silence, and before long, they’d finished eating and the plates were clear. Dumbledore stood from his seat again and spread his arms.
“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore’s gaze seemed to lock onto a pair of grinning redheads at the Gryffindor table when he spoke, and looking at them, Asha could guess why. They looked like the type to pick Rogues with the chaotic good alignment. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch Trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madame Hooch.
“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”
Asha frowned. That sounded almost like bait. But for wh- ah. Dumbledore was watching Harry out the corner of his eye.
“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” The older Slytherins faltered in their conversations, and she noticed more than one person’s expression spasm before they wrestled it under control again. Dumbledore raised his wand, and a golden ribbon spiralled out of it to form twisting words above his head. “Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go!”
Most of Slytherin didn’t sing. Some of the first-years started to, but were swiftly shut up by severe looks from the other students.
“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
“Teach us something please,
“Whether we be old and bald
“Or young with knobbly knees,
“Our heads could do with filling
“With some interesting stuff,
“For now they’re bare and full of air,
“Dead flies and bits of fluff,
“So teach us things worth knowing,
“Bring back what we’ve forgot,
“Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,
“And learn until our brains all rot.”
Asha tried to hide her grimace, and was failing miserably at it. Draco appeared to be having more success, but his expression was still obvious. Everyone around the hall petered out at different times, until it was just the two redheads from earlier, singing a slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines himself, and then when people started clapping – everyone was reluctant to applaud that shit-show – he was the loudest by a considerable margin.
“Ah, music,” Dumbledore sighed, “A magic beyond all we do here!”
Asha scoffed. If that was music, then I’m a Tiefling. She’d heard first-year instrumental students at her middle school play a more recognisable tune than that.
“And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”
The students stood almost immediately, and they all filed out of the Great Hall as a group. The Slytherin dorms were apparently down in the dungeons, and the walk there would have been cold, had she not cast a quiet warming charm on her robes. Draco was shivering next to her, and she took pity on him, casting the same charm on his robes. He straightened out of his slight hunch after a few seconds, and his shaking died out entirely. He didn’t seem to notice the warming charm, but he seemed more comfortable, at least.
The people leading the group, who had introduced themselves as Prefects Jemma Farley and Marcus Flint, stopped outside a stretch of stone wall carved with the outline of a snake. One of them said something to the snake figure, and it turned to look at them before slithering into the rock. A small hole appeared as its tail disappeared, which swiftly grew into a large archway. The two upper-years lead them through into a spacious, warm common room decorated in cool greens and mellow silvers. The lighting also had a greenish tinge to it, and she saw green-glassed lanterns dotted around the room as well as a large wall made purely out of glass. It was too dark outside to tell what was out there, but she thought that it might be the black lake.
The rest of the night was a blur of speeches from the house Prefects and their Head of House, a tall, greasy-haired man called Professor Snape. Soon, they were directed to their dorm rooms, and she collapsed into the closest bed with a sigh. She had barely enough presence of mind to climb into her suitcase and change into pyjamas before sliding under the covers. She was asleep the second her head hit the pillow, Ruth curled up in her hair.