The Sorting
“You!”
Her voice shook with hurt and fear, or maybe it was anger; she didn’t know. Adrenaline cursed through her body as she and Snape met eyes. How could he stand there so calmly after what he had done? The faint glow of Hogwarts behind him made light and shadows dance around his face, illuminating and distorting his features grotesquely as they faced each other in the adumbral courtyard, oddly and painfully reminiscent of that underground room… No, she couldn’t bear to remember it.
“How could you… After you… You killed him!”
She was trembling violently now, and with a shock, realise that she had drawn her wand. She was the picture of passion and anger, but he remained as calm as if they had met as strangers. The smirk, however, slid off his face.
Of course, she had expected to see him here. She had spent weeks before this day reading Hogwarts: A History, familiarising herself with the school and staff. She had known, from the introductory letter that Dumbledore had sent her outlining the curriculum and her teachers, that they would meet. She even remembered him in lazy discussions with her father when she was younger, sitting on the baldresca in their summer house in Ferrara, Achille sipping a Campari and Severus always with a flask of strong elderflower wine. He would recount tales of obtuse pupils blowing up their cauldrons or (Merlin forbid) mistaking armadillo bile for arnica in their Wit-Sharpening Potions. They had shared a smile – no, perhaps it was more a smirk – before the conversation turned to darker matters. Yes, she had known he taught here and that they would have to meet, but nothing had prepared her for this feeling.
“Foolish girl,” he snarled. “You know very well I had no other choice. The Dark Lord’s orders-”
“Does the Dark Lord own your mind and body?” Ava was becoming hysterical, her voice climbing higher and higher up the octave. “You could have said no!”
“You understand very well that one does not say no.” Her words sounded childish and stupid in his icy cadence. “Lower your voice, brat; you’re going to give us away. Or have you forgotten the Vow? Muffliato!”
The Silencing Charm settled around them in an instant, both muting the chatter and laughter echoing from the Great Hall and concealing their own voices from foreign ears. He wore a curious expression; it was guarded, and yet somehow imploring. “Here.” He searched his robes hastily and produced a vial of something cloudy and sweet-smelling. “Calming draught.”
Ava took it gratefully and felt the anger subside as the draught coursed through her body. She knew he was right – if the Dark Lord had truly ordered Severus to kill Achille, he wouldn’t have had another option. Besides, she added mentally, she was bound by the magic of the Unbreakable Vow to pretend all was normal between them. She had pledged to keep their secret.
It was still hard to look at him without remembering that fateful day, and he was perhaps finding the same, avoiding her eyes with the tenacity of a gargoyle. Satisfied with the effects of the Draught, he cautiously lowered the Silencing Charm around them, and with a quick incline of his head, commanded her to follow his lead towards the warmth of the castle.
“You’re to join the first years assembled before the Sorting Hat. You will be sorted last. A Prefect from your house will help you to your common room, and tomorrow I will give out your class schedule at breakfast. You may ask any student, teacher, or ghost to help you navigate the castle during your time here, and your Head of House will answer any of your concerns.” She was barely listening, her mind still awash with questions and memories.
They had entered the Entrance Hall, and she could see through the magnificent pair of double doors that, true to its description in Hogwarts: A History, the roof seemed to be an asomatous reflection of the sky outside, or rather, she thought, there looked to be no roof at all. Raindrops had begun to fall, pelting against the sky as if stopped by an invisible barrier.
“Avalon.” She turned to face him, ahead of him now, but he was looking resolutely ahead, eyes stoic. “It was not my will.”
“I understand,” she said, voice breaking, and turned on her heel towards the Great Hall, which had become engulfed by an echoey silence. Gathering her courage, she stepped into the Hall, through those enormous doors and into the vast room.
***
Faces turned to glance at her from every direction and Ava felt her face become hot and red for the umpteenth time that day. Hundreds of wandering eyes followed her through the Hall and towards the group of assembled first years, gathered in front of a raised platform at the front of the room. It was all she could to not to stare in wonder. Four impossibly long tables held dishes of every kind, arranged two to her left and two to her right. Hundreds, or maybe thousands, of flickering candles bobbed gently in the air above them.
“Welcome, welcome! The very best of evenings to you!”
She let out a long breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding when, mercifully, the students turned their attention to the teacher’s table ahead of her. The elderly man who had spoken had raised his arms wide, reminding her of Brazil’s Christ the Redeemer. His shimmering purple robes and impressive beard matched perfectly the Chocolate Frog card of Dumbledore that was (probably) somewhere in the bottom of her trunk, but for one blackened, shrivelled hand.
“There will be a time for speeches, but this is not it. I wouldn’t dream of denying you that fantastic Yorkshire pudding a moment longer than necessary,” the ancient wizard said, his eyes twinkling. “All I wish to say is this. Welcome to our new sixth year student, Avalon Duclair, who joins us from Beauxbatons. It seems she was not able to resist the temptation of the inestimable Hogwarts education for her final years of schooling.”
There was polite laughter, and Dumbledore’s kind eyes met hers from over the heads of the first years.
“Welcome, as well, to our first year students, who have one final peril to face before they can join you all.”
There was more laughter, but it quickly died out, and the school turned to watch the teacher’s table intently, or rather, she saw, the ancient wizard’s hat that was positioned on a roughly hewn wooden stool just in front of it. The Hall was impossibly quiet. Without warning, the hat opened what must have been its mouth, and began to sing.
In times of old, the middle years
Did see the founders four
Invent the noble school which now
Is told in wizard lore.
So, Hogwarts school was founded
The four mages at its helm
Thus ended the division
That had plagued the wizard realm.
Rule they could together
But teach they did alone
For still they sorted pupils
Into houses of their own.
It seemed to be the proper course
To split the students such
Each boy or girl befit one house
And they were taught as much.
Ravenclaw sought only those
Who demonstrated wit
As well as curiosity
Her house they did befit.
For Hufflepuff, t’was loyalty
That students ought to show
To those that did, dear Hufflepuff
Taught all that she did know.
Slytherin, his graduates
Were cunning and were shrewd
But t’was his hate of Muggleborns
That led them to their feud.
For Gryffindor, an aptitude
For pluck under duress
Was the quality most noble
That his students did possess.
Yes, Gryffindor sought bravery
A student who was bold
Would join the house of Godric
In Hogwarts School of old.
But t’was his daring fearlessness
That brought the founders four
To meet a fate so dreadful that
It led their world to war.
Old Gryffindor, he bore a sword
That he did bravely wield
But folly sought to ply its blade
And hence, their fates were sealed.
When Slytherin did seek to take
Only those students who
Had cunning minds and purest blood
The sword’s mean blade he knew.
The bravery of Gryffindor
Did lead his hand astray
He fought his rival with the sword
Which ails us to this day.
Slytherin, he took offense
At the Muggle knife
T’was only wands, he fancied, that
Should furnish us in strife.
Slytherin had cause to flee
The fight that he had sown
And Gryffindor, he hid the sword
Where still it lies, unknown.
Thus were the days of Albion
That in the Middle Ages
Left a lasting legacy
Immortalised in pages.
So, turning on our friends too hastily will bring us strife
Remember this before you set upon them with a knife.
Laughter erupted at this last line and some of the tension that had gripped the Hall only moments before began to disperse. Students began to chatter among themselves, trying to unravel the meaning of the Hat’s verses, but silence quickly set in once more as a stern-looking woman stepped towards the hat, holding a long scroll of parchment, and began to read.
“Albatross, Alys!”
The hat was placed upon the trembling girl’s head, covering her eyes. Not a moment later, the hat bellowed,
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Applause erupted as Alys tottered to the table to Ava’s immediate right, and several Hufflepuffs rose to shake her hand in congratulations.
“Aquinas, Tabatha!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
The Sorting went on, and whistles and stamps were heard from the Slytherin table as twins Camilla and Cyrus Bexley were consecutively sorted into their house. Student after student was sorted, until eventually the line had whittled down to half. Mafalda Mallow and Giorgia de’ Medici became Gryffindors, and Bernhard Oliver went to Hufflepuff.
Ava squirmed uncomfortably as the rain pressed on above them and the line shortened steadily. Pippa Osset, Peony Parkinson, Hope Peabody, and Emeline Quagmire all joined Slytherin. There were only four students ahead of her now, and she was suddenly aware of her height in comparison to theirs, and felt the strange and uncomfortable sensation of standing out and being watched. Lucian Rosewood went to Slytherin too, and she shuffled nervously, wanting it all to be over. Could the founders not have devised a less public Sorting process?
“Vaisey, Germain!”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“Vance, Magnolia!”
“RAVENCLAW!”
Finally, Herman Yowie went to Hufflepuff and she was the only one left.
“Duclair, Avalon!”
The hat smelled as old as Time itself, and she wrinkled her nose as it was placed on her head. She felt it sifting through her mind, peeking into her memories and filtering through her private thoughts.
“Hm, an interesting mind indeed,” the Hat’s voice said from above her, and she jumped, panicked. “Don’t worry, only you can hear me. Interesting, interesting… I see tenacity, oh yes, and courage too… You’d make a good Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Or perhaps Ravenclaw, like your grandparents? I see you have an unquenchable curiosity, child…”
Ava hadn’t even known her grandparents had gone to Hogwarts, let alone that they had been Ravenclaws. Her mother talked little of her childhood, and Ava suddenly realised the extraordinary wonder of attending the school as the chance to delve into the untold mysteries of her mother’s teenage years swam before her. How many teachers had taught her? Did she have many friends? What had she been like as a girl? Had the portraits seen her going to class, talking with her friends? All of this was obscure to Ava, who had managed to wheedle out of her mother only the most basic and most factual details regarding her history.
“Yes, a very inquisitive mind indeed.” The Hat chuckled, sharing her thoughts. “But I see too an untamed cunning, oh yes… A deception is afoot, young girl.”
Ava shifted uncomfortably in her seat, begging the Hat not to remind her of her subterfuge. The Sorting had dragged on for long enough, and she could see the students in front of her growing restless.
“Alright, alright, I’ll hurry! Yes, cunning indeed, and such an accomplished liar. Better be SLYTHERIN!”
Whoops and cheers erupted as the hat and stool were whisked from the raised platform, and the mood in the Hall was high, but as Ava made towards the Slytherin table, all she could hear were the Hat’s final words.
Such an accomplished liar.
Well, that was unflattering. Was she really so cunning and manipulative? Weren’t Slytherins also supposed to be power-hungry and ruthless? She had known she was no Hufflepuff, but she felt uncomfortable in her new identity, as if wearing a too-small jumper. Perhaps all that the Hat had said about the folly of Sorting students into houses had some merit.
She spotted Nott from earlier that night, whose signature scowl had melted off his face now Ron and Hermione were at a safe distance. He moved over to make room and she sat down gratefully, barely hearing the congratulations of her new classmates. She felt a jolt of recognition for the second time that day as she took in their faces, all regarding her with a guarded curiosity through wondering, familiar eyes.
She knew where she had seen them, she realised suddenly. Around her, students had begun to work through the plenteous feast before them, but she sat as if frozen. She’d seen their faces many times before, in meetings at her father’s estate in Poitiers, or at the summer house in Italy, and she’d even been brought along to some of their meetings in England a she’d grown older. She’d seen them make small talk over copious glasses of expensive wine, and design plots to kill their enemies over dinner. Well, not them exactly, but their fathers. The boy directly across from her bore an expression not unlike the Death Eater Crabbe, and, she realised with a sinking feeling as she watched him, had the same inelegant mannerisms. The boy to his right was the image of Goyle, who was often seen at the elder Crabbe’s side during Dark events. On Crabbe’s other side, an older boy who must have been Rosier’s son was piling his plate with roast potatoes and asparagus. She had watched Rosier Senior make jokes about the most recent Muggle attack only last summer, as he played Wizard Chess with her father before a Death Eater meeting. She realised uneasily, as she looked to her immediate left, where she recognised Nott from. Nott Senior had paid them many visits on so-called “business matters”, and had evidently passed down his voice, his posture, and his scowl. Would she be stuck looking at the faces of the Death Eaters’ sons for the next two years? It would be like taking classes with younger, less treacherous versions of her parents’ colleagues. The thought was unsettling.
“Are you alright?”
Ava looked up and was relieved to see that the boy who had spoken did not resemble any Dark wizards she knew, and managed a tired smile. He wiped his hands elegantly on a napkin and reached over the table to shake her hand. “Where are my manners? I’m Blaise Zabini.”
“Pleasure,” she replied, and realised that the conversation around her was dwindling; people were starting to turn towards her with interest. Zabini’s steady gaze remained fixed on her, and he beheld her with curiosity.
“I’m Ava,” she added quickly, not wanting to appear standoffish. “What year are you in?”
“We’re all in sixth.” Zabini nodded to the other students in their general vicinity, who, by now, had all turned to look. “That’s Nott-” Ava already knew him, of course, but shook hands all the same, “Crabbe… Goyle… That’s Tracey Davis… Rosier’s in seventh year… Introduce yourself Daphne, don’t be shy.”
Daphne, who was seated on her right, sported a head of golden hair which bobbed around her like a cloud. She turned to face Ava, daintily arranging her napkin on her lap. “Pleased to meet you. Snape said something about a new girl in our dorm. You’re from Beauxbatons, right?”
“Beauxbatons?” Zabini raised a thin eyebrow. “Perhaps you know my half-brother. His name’s Alessandro; he graduated in-”
“My cousin went there too,” Daphne interrupted, turning back to her plate of roast beef. “Rebecca Greengrass; do you know her?”
“Is it true you’re taught wandless magic for your OWLs?”
“Of course not.” She addressed Rosier, the boy who had most recently spoken. “That’s Master-level magic – there’s no way an underage witch or wizard could do it for OWLS. Whoever told you that was bluffing.” She began to heap her plate with food as well, having barely realised it was there. “And besides,” she added, reaching over the jellied eels for the peas, “they’re called ESIs in France, our Examens de Sorcellerie Intermédiaires, or Intermediate Sorcery Exams.” She reached across Daphne for the shepherd’s pie, suddenly very hungry indeed. “And I don’t know your cousin Daphne, nor your brother, Blaise. Sorry.”
“That’s quite all right,” Daphne said, placing her fork and knife carefully on her plate in parallel and wiping her hands slowly on her napkin. “Excellent black pudding tonight, didn’t you think? Who are your parents, Ava? Mine might’ve met them.” She said it lightly, but she could see that the Slytherins’ ears had pricked up, as most of her classmates once again turned to look. Of course they would want to know. There was no use hiding anything from them, as she did at Beauxbatons; she remembered giving vague, noncommittal answers to her French friends in the hope that no-one would notice the Dark connection. Beauxbatons had been her escape from the world of shadowy grown-ups and wizarding politics, and no-one had thought too closely about anyone else’s family ties. Here, though, Ava knew that school and family life could not stay separate; not in Slytherin, where bloodlines meant everything.
“Achille and Palamida Duclair,” she said, and some of her classmates nodded in recognition. “We lived in England until I was eight, and they were very active in, er… politics.”
The thinly veiled message hit home as several students around her met her eyes knowingly. Death Eaters. Nott was suddenly very focused on sawing his steak into tiny, even pieces, hands moving mechanically. Daphne, however, noticed nothing, and said, “Is that so? What area of politics, Ava? My father works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, so he may know yours.”
“Yes, perhaps,” she replied, but she wasn’t really listening. At the mention of her parents, a boy she hadn’t really noticed before turned to watch her, surveying her with a dark, guarded expression. He would have been the type to fade into the background, pale and quiet as he was, if not for his shock of white-blond hair. He watched her, face thin and drawn, and she watched him. They had always ignored each other at the meetings, but now he was watching her, seeing her for the first time, and she was seeing the boy.