A Nine Lives Long Tale [SUSPENDED]

“AVERY, DOROTHEA!”

A girl walked up to the stool in the front of the Great Hall. She picked nervously at her blonde braid as the Hat was placed on her head. The whole room seemed to hold their breath.

“SLYTHERIN!”

“That’s no surprise,” a girl standing next to Minerva whispered, “she kept blabbing about her all-Slytherin-family for the entire ride.”

Another girl beside her chuckled before replying, “Honestly, I was kind of disappointed when she didn't fall off the boat.”

“BAGNOLD, MILLICENT!”

Minerva couldn't stop looking around the huge room. The place was amazing, thirty times better than what she had imagined. The most stunning thing was undoubtedly the ceiling: she let her eyes wander in the bright blue sky and follow the shooting stars that fell from above. Will she learn to make magic like that? It seemed very difficult, and it probably required a powerful caster. She looked for them in the room, but no one seemed to be casting the charm, or even looking at the enchanted ceiling, except for her fellow classmates.

“RAVENCLAW!”

Polite applauses followed as the girl descended the stairs towards the Ravenclaw table.

“BELBY, DAMOCLES!”

“Wizards surely have fun with names…”

“Nobby, for the love of Merlin, not so loud.”

At that, Minerva had to cover her mouth to hide a chuckle. Those boys were funny, and if she had to admit it, she was hoping to be sorted in the same House as at least one of them.

“RAVENCLAW!”

Another round of applause followed.

“You should be one of the next,” she whispered to Edgar, who had in the meantime lost even that little colour he once had in his cheeks.

“If you're about to throw up, please warn us. I happen to quite like this robe,” Samad chortled.

“BLACK, ALPHARD!”

I know this one, Minerva thought. He was even more handsome than that day in Diagon Alley, and she found herself to be not the only one staring at him. The whole school had fallen into a deep, reverent silence as the boy sat on the stool; the Hat too appeared more committed, but Alphard didn't seem to care, or at least to notice. He was just sitting there, with his back straight and his fine robe well ironed, not meeting anyone's gaze but looking straight forwards, like a prince on his throne.

The Hat took his sweet time before declaring his “Slytherin!”

A victorious yelp came from the table on her far left, and a flock of hands outstretched to greet the dark-haired boy.

“BONES, EDGAR!”

Minerva watched carefully as Edgar moved towards the Hat: yes, he was definitely at high risk of puking. His face had turned from pale to green and he was staring down at them from the stool with pleading eyes. The Hat, maybe out of pity, took him out of his misery quickly: in the very moment it touched the boy’s fair hair, the decision was made.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

A roar came from the table on her right, and a bunch of students in red and gold ties shot up to their feet, clapping and whistling. Edgar seemed at first taken aback by the noise, the loudest since the beginning of the ceremony, even louder than the one that had followed Black. He gathered himself quickly, however, and trotted down the stairs to join his new House.

Minerva surprised herself by envying him: Gryffindor seemed great. Courage and bravery, things she didn't mind. And more importantly, they were loud. Since she had entered the Great Hall, they had been rarely silent, and now that they had welcomed their first new member, probably nothing was going to shut them up.

“BOTT, BARTOLOMEUS!”

Minerva didn't really pay mind to the boy, nor to the kid that followed him. Instead, she kept studying the way the younger Gryffindors were shaking Edgar’s hand, how they smiled at him. Cheers came from the Hufflepuff table, but it was nothing compared to the second howl that came from the Gryffindors when a girl, a redhead with chubby cheeks came rushing towards them.

“We’re still at the Bs…” Nobby sighed, “they’ll never call us.”

“That means more time for Samad to freak us out,” Minerva mumbled, forcing her eyes to leave the back of the new Gryffindor girl’s head.

In fact, back on the Express, Samad had been keen to share with them the most terrifying stories his sisters had told him about the Sorting Ceremony: he had said that the Hat could predict the future and he would get kicked out those students who would, later on, get bad marks; or that the more time the decision would take, the more the Hat would tighten, to the point that once it had to be cut off from a kid’s head and he had been left with a huge permanent scar on his forehead. Edgar had tried to assure them that none of that was true, and Minerva had been very sceptical back then; but now, while students climbed and descended the stool, all those stories didn’t seem so absurd anymore. After all, they were in front of a talking hat. A hat who could talk. If it was able to talk, why wouldn’t it tighten?

Nobby was probably experiencing the same doubts as her, because he turned to Samad to whisper: “What can I do to make the decision faster? Not that I believe you, but…” he sniffed, “you know, just in case.”

Samad licked his lips. “You have to…”

“LEACH, NORBERTO!”

Nobby’s eyes widened in panic. “I have to…?”

“Sorry chap. Too late,” Samad shrugged, before giving Nobby a small push towards the steps.

The poor Italian boy moved up and sat there, frenetically rubbing his hands over his robe. The hat was placed on his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if he was about to receive a punch. In the meantime, Samad was barely holding it together.

“Norberto? Really?” he laughed.

When Nobby was finally sorted into Gryffindor, however, and ran towards their table, his forehead did not show any marks from the tightening. Minerva watched as Nobby sat beside Edgar and started talking with enthusiasm to the Gryffindor girls – the redhead plus two others who had been sorted in the meantime.

Finally, it came her turn. “MCGONAGALL, MINERVA!”

Her heart sank, and her head felt lighter. She struggled to keep her legs from shaking as she walked up to the stool. The professor who had called her name gently let the Hat fall on her head. It was too big for her, and it slipped over her eyes, making her view go dark.

“Hello, Minerva,” a husky voice sounded inside her head, “don’t be nervous. I can already tell you’re a great witch, but… let’s see. Oh, tough decision, very tricky...”

The rest of her dialogue with the Hat passed in a blur, but she could tell it had taken a long time. She had lost herself a bit in that deep voice; she had listened as it listed her qualities and flaws, as it searched her soul; she had prayed and pleaded at first to let her free, to take a decision, any decision; but then she had abandoned herself to the Hat. It knew she was proud and stubborn. It knew she was quite smart, but sometimes blind. It knew she was desperate to prove herself, to excel, to let the world know that she wasn’t such a terrible person after all. It knew her desire to escape while still clinging to the ones she loved. It knew her fears; it knew her lies.

Countless moments of silence passed; she couldn’t hear a sound from outside, and the voice had grown quiet, probably thinking. She felt herself go mad, drown in silence. But then the voice rose again.

“Ravenclaw… or Gryffindor?” he had pondered. “I reckon, my girl, that it is up to you now. What do you want? What do you value the most? Brightness, cleverness, wise judgement? Or bravery, daring, chivalry?” He paused, and then he asked the final question. “Brain or heart?”

“Heart,” Minerva had found herself thinking.

***

The Gryffindor Common Room was beautiful. Refined tapestries decorated the strong brick walls, soft carpets covered the floor; leather sofas and tables in fine wood seemed to be waiting for students to sit; warm, inviting flames were dancing in the massive fireplace. They had been escorted inside the Tower by the Gryffindor Prefect, Rufus Scrimgeour, Minerva seemed to recall; he had a very serious expression, too adult for a sixteen-year-old.

“Boys, the staircase on the right,” he pointed, “girls, the staircase on the left. You will find all your belongings in your dormitories.”

“How do you think they arrived there?” Nobby whispered to Minerva, “Did they use some kind of teleportation?”

“No idea,” Minerva replied, barely paying attention to him. She had been left quite disoriented by her sorting: she was a practical girl and taking a dive so deep into her mind wasn’t exactly what she was used to. She had walked away from those six minutes – Edgar had counted them on his watch – feeling as tired as she had never been in her whole life. She felt as if someone had stuck her head inside a fish tank; things outside seemed slower, the sounds muffled. She had already forgotten the password Rufus had just told them. Oh, and the girls. She was aware of their presence around her during the Feast, but she had trouble remembering their names, and what they had talked about. She had only stared down quietly at her plate, lost inside a tangle of thoughts she wasn’t even able to decipher. Surely, not the most positive first impression.

After saying goodnight to the boys – more for her own joy than for theirs, all three of them had been sorted into Gryffindor, – she found herself following the redhead – Hannah? Arya?  It surely was a short name. – All the girls together climbed the stairs up to the third floor, where stood a wooden door with a golden plaque which recited “First Year.” Someone opened the door, and they all lined up to enter. The dormitory was as beautiful as the Common Room: four big poster beds with red and gold sheets and curtains were disposed inside the oval room; two long windows allowed the silver full moon's light to flood inside; there was another door, probably to the bathroom.

“This should be mine,” a calm voice came from behind her back.

She turned to find a gorgeous girl, with very dark skin and a complicated pattern of braids running over her head and falling just above her shoulders. She was pointing at the bed Minerva had stopped in front of; at its feet, there was a big trunk, and on its lid was uncarved a name: “C. A. Jordan”.

“Oh, sure,” Minerva croaked, bolting away to clear the area. At least now she knew the girl’s last name.

She chuckled while walking to her bed and sitting on it. “You look terrified.”

“Me?” Minerva asked. Yes, she sounded terrified. “I’m just… tired.”

“Go to bed, then,” the girl replied softly, before nodding towards the one next to hers.

Minerva obeyed. She felt so confused, so light-headed; all seemed so unreal…

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?” a breezy voice called from somewhere in the room.

“Go on, it’s all yers,” the redhead replied.

While the door slammed shut, Minerva kneeled in front of her bags. She opened slowly the bigger one and grabbed her nightshirt and toothbrush; she also picked up the book she was reading and placed it on the nightstand.

“I’m so stuffed,” the ginger girl moaned as she collapsed ungraciously on her bed.  “Do you think they’ll feed us like dat every nigh’?” She had a very thick accent Minerva was now starting to recognize as Irish.

“I hope so,” the Jordan girl laughed. “Best meal ever.”

The redhead moaned once more, but then she dragged herself up to sit and looked right at Minerva. “You surely are a quiet one, aye?” she asked.

Minerva sighed. She really was not, not like that at least. But she was feeling so out of herself that night. “It depends,” she replied wearily while adjusting the lamp on her nightstand.

“She’s tired, Ada,” the Jordan girl said in a gentle tone, almost maternal.

Ada. Short name.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Yes, we are. But she’s more tired than you and me. Let her be, we have seven years to talk.”

“Fine,” Ada sang, but then she muttered: “She seemed more than chatty wi’ de boys.”

Minerva sighed. She was right of course, and normally she wouldn’t have cared, but first impressions were crucial, and she needed to rectify it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” she started, staring at her lamp. She sighed. “The sorting was a bit harsh.”

“Well, you were a Hatstall,” the dark-skinned girl noted, before standing up and coming closer to her. “I’m not surprised it upset you. Me, I was up there for barely two minutes and still hated having a voice croaking inside my head.”

Minerva looked up at her and smiled gratefully.

“Hatstall?” Ada repeated in question.

“It’s when the Hat takes more than five minutes to sort you. It’s quite rare.”

“Aye, aye” the other girl mused, “it slipped me mind for a second."

The bathroom door opened, and the fourth girl emerged in a pink nightshirt. “Merlin, even the loo is beautiful.”

“Don’t mind if I give it a lash,” Ada said, before leaping up and entering the bathroom with her things in hand.

The girl in the pink shirt started walking around, examining the room in awe. She was quite petite, with small grey eyes and a tiny nose that she kept wrinkling in a funny way every time something caught her interest. While Minerva had been distracted by observing her, the Jordan girl had leaned over Minerva’s nightstand and picked up her book.

“Orlando? Never heard of it,” she said, studying the cover.

“It’s been very good so far.”

“Is it a Muggle book?” she asked, flipping the book over to read the back cover.

Minerva gulped. “In fact, yes.”

The girl studied it for a moment more, but then she offered it back with a smile. “It seems very interesting. Will you lend it to me when you’re finished? So that we can talk about it.”

Minerva let out a breath in relief. “Of course.”

The girl was being too kind to be true, and instead, Minerva couldn’t even remember her name. It was very rude of her and asking now would have probably offended her – they had been in the same room for hours now, for Heaven’s sakes. However, going on with their days without knowing it would be even worse. So, she moved closer to the edge of her bed and whispered, “I don’t want to sound ignorant or offend you, but… I wasn’t really paying attention at dinner…”

The girl raised her eyebrows in a funny way. “Yes?”

“I… I can’t remember your name,” Minerva let out, bending her head to stare at the shoes she still had on, ashamed. But the girl didn’t get offended at all. Instead, she let out a chuckle and sat beside her on the bed.

“Cecilia Jordan,” she offered, and then she came closer to her and whispered, “Do you remember the others’?”

Minerva shook her head, still staring at her too old shoes.

“The girl in the bathroom is Ada Bryne,” she explained patiently, “and the other is Aurelia Figg.”

“Thank you, Cecilia” she murmured, smiling at her.

“No problem, Minerva,” she grinned back, before bursting out laughing. “We absolutely need nicknames.”

***

“I’m telling you, it’s this way!”

“Naw, naw, Scrimgeour said: corridor on de left, right staircase, third floor an' den left turn.”

“That leads to the bathrooms.”

“Waat? Let me see!”

“Don’t you have your own map?”

“I left it de the dormitory. Now c’mere, let me have a look.”

“We should’ve gone to breakfast earlier…”

They were lost. They were lost, and late. They were rushing from corridor to corridor, looking for the Charms classroom, which seemed to have magically disappeared – that wouldn’t surprise Minerva, not after seeing the moving stairs. Of course, every one of them had a map, provided by the school itself. However, it was more of a lazy sketch than a real map, very poor in comparison to the enormous castle and its countless classrooms.

“Should we split up?” Aurelia suggested shyly.

“We’d never find each other again,” Cecilia sighed, holding up her map for Ada to examine.

Minerva was pacing the corridor, trying to find any sign on the walls that could give her some direction, but she hadn’t been lucky so far. Then, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs; she speeded towards them, only to bump into a familiar face.

“Edgar!” she cried, relieved to see him.

“Hey!” he panted with surprise. He had obviously been running up the stairs, and his face, normally pale, was red and sweaty. “Looking for…” he asked between a heavy breath and another, “Charms classroom?”

“Desperately. Do you know where it is?”

“I’ve just run… back down to… to ask someone. They said to… ehm…” he tried, but then stopped to inhale. “Just… follow me.”

He didn’t need to tell it twice. Minerva and the girls ran after him, and finally, they arrived in front of the 2E classroom just in time. They entered and sat down on the chairs available, the others being already occupied by the Gryffindor boys and the Ravenclaws, with whom they shared that first period.

“You left me back in the dormitory!” she heard Edgar hiss under his breath to the boys.

“That is our brand-new rule: if you lock yourself in the bathroom for more than 20 minutes, we leave you behind,” Samad whispered in return.

But Minerva’s focus was elsewhere. She was looking at the professor, a tall woman with silken chocolate brown hair. She already knew her from the night before, when she had greeted the Gryffindor first years as their Head of House. Back then though, Minerva hadn’t really looked at her.

She was sitting on her desk in front of the classroom, with her midnight blue robe falling graciously down her long, crossed legs. She was reading some papers in a file, and her round glasses kept slipping down her nose. Somehow, she reminded Minerva of some actress her mother loved; one night, she had even taken Minerva to the movies in Wick to see her. Gene Tierney, if memory served her.

When she finished reading, she carefully placed the file on the desk, slowly adjusted her glasses once more, and only then she looked at them with those green, inquisitive eyes.

“Good morning, class. As some of you will recall, I am Professor Valeria Myriadd, Charms Master, and Head of Gryffindor House. This year we will learn the basic charms every wizard and witch worthy of this school must know. I expect great things from all of you, and I hope not to be proven wrong.”

Her tone was stern, and when she looked around the class, almost daring every and each of them to return her gaze, Minerva felt a shiver down her spine. Only while waiting for her name to be called to take attendance, she allowed herself to take a look at her classmates. From her desk in the back, she could see, sitting beside Nobby, the only Gryffindor boy she still hadn’t had the chance to talk to – if one didn’t count the Feast of the night before, but as she had decided that very morning, she was done scolding herself for her poor conduct. The Gryffindor was a broad kid, visibly tall even now he was sitting; nothing like Nobby, whose feet barely touched the ground.

After the professor called everyone's names, she stood up and clapped her hands. “Alright then, we will start with the Leviosa Charm.”

The lesson flowed smoothly. Minerva was a bit disappointed by not having had the chance to use her wand for the first time, but apparently, it was better to understand the wrist motion and the correct spelling before really casting the charm – probably to avoid having floating children bouncing up the classroom walls.

Having been dismissed, all the Gryffindors gathered in the corridor to examine the route towards the Potion class - why that had to be in the dungeons, Minerva couldn't comprehend. Samad and Edgar started almost immediately to argue with Ada about which route to take, while Nobby was trying to tease the tall boy – Algie Longbottom, apparently, – with an impression of Professor Myriadd. It was chaos.

“Go on, do as you please! But then don’t come to me when you’ll be lost down the dungeons!” was yelling Samad.

“Mr Longbottom! Where’s your wrist movement? You won’t levitate a pin with that flabby wrist!” Nobby was shrieking, exaggerating a hilarious frown, and comically pointing his finger at a very embarrassed Algie.

“How did you put up with them, I’ll never know,” Cecilia whispered to Minerva while enjoying the scene. But then she put two fingers in her mouth and let out a powerful whistle. All the Gryffindors shut up at once and turned to look at her. “Very good,” she said smudgy. Since we cannot reach an agreement, I propose a race. Girls against boys, the first ones to arrive at the Potion class win.”

“Win what?” Edgar asked sceptically.

“Eternal glory,” Minerva answered, backing her up.

“Go on then,” Samad agreed, cracking up a smile. “On the count to three. One…”

All the boys walked by his side, the girls by Cecilia’s. “Two…”

“But Filch said yesterday we’re not allowed to run in the corridors…”

“Just go, Aurie, go!” Minerva turned to yell at the girl, while her legs were already gone in the wind.