Professor Obelus opened the large doors. As each of the students walked by, he waved his wand like before and the lanterns hovered out of the first-years’ hands and into a neat pile just inside the doors. Patrick’s lantern flew out of his hand just as another wizard stepped before them. This man was rather tall and his blonde hair stuck out from under a violet hat that matched his long robes. On his hat was perched a tiny bird which would, every so often, flutter around his head, chirping and singing. He had a very kind and playful face that smiled to all the new students.
“Don’t mind the hat, it’s the start of the Quidditch season. I’m a big fan of the Warblers,” he spoke pointing to the little bird on the brim. Patrick began to like him even more. “I am Professor Snerkin, Charms teacher, and Assistant Dean of Wentwater. Your time here will be spent along with many other students and in order to settle you all in, you must be placed into your residence halls.
“There are six halls that you may be placed in: Allard, Garrison, Kinsey, Rylan, Mendel, or Templeton. All of these halls have been named in honor of wizards and witches of great regard and you would do well to follow in their footsteps.” The bird on his hat had begun to chirp uncontrollably. Professor Snerkin removed it to quiet him down. “I suppose I should do away with this for now. I will return when it is time for you all to enter.”
Patrick now wished he hadn’t left his things on the train. He desperately wanted to search through the wizard cards he received to discover who the wizards were that had lent their names to the Wentwater Halls. He took his mind off of it and wondered how exactly he’d be placed in them.
“Do you know how this is going to work, Patrick?” Sarah asked. This was one question they did not go over on the train.
“Well I have an idea, but I don’t think it’s likely,” Patrick replied as something Paul had told him came to mind. “Hopefully, Wentwater cares enough about its students not to have them cross a blazing moat of flames.”
Professor Snerkin returned, hat-less, waving his hand, “Follow me.”
Patrick and the other students were led down a corridor lined with velvety red carpet. It directed them straight into what must have been the largest room Patrick had ever seen. The Dining Hall was a long rectangular room that stretched down until it rounded off into a circular one. Patrick and the others cautiously walked between six long tables admiring everything in the hall. There were six colored banners hanging over each of the tables which had been set with rows of silver goblets and plates. A look out of the windows of the hall almost startled Patrick. Instead of showing the bright moonlit grounds, the glass revealed an image of a cloudy sky, and grounds that were only lit by the dim light given off by the flood of stars in the sky. He supposed they were enchanted, because their stroll outside appeared to show much more light than the windows suggested. The staff table bowed around the perimeter of the circular end where many teachers had been seated. Patrick noticed Professor Obelus taking a large sip from his goblet, apparently eager to watch the ceremony. The students were standing between in the middle of the hall between two tables soaking in every detail of the room.
Professor Snerkin pulled a scroll of parchment from his violet robes and addressed the first years, garnering their attention.
“When I call your name you will step up and place your hands on this,” he said, gesturing behind him.
One of the other professors came in holding a large wooden box. He conjured a thin column, placed the box on top and comfortably took his seat at the staff table. Professor Snerkin opened the box to reveal a sparkling clear, crystal orb that slowly rose out of its container and floated effortlessly above it.
“This ball was used by Wentwater’s founder, Josephus Allard. As you may already know, his name is given to one of the residence halls here. He came to this very ball for guidance whenever he needed to make a decision, and it will also guide you to the hall in which you will stay.
“You may notice that each hall has a different color,” he said, gesturing to the banners hanging high above them, “and this ball will direct you to the hall of that corresponding color. Now, when I call your name please step forward to the column.”
He paused to unroll his parchment.
“Akamatsu, Shinobu,” he projected.
A tiny Japanese girl split apart from the crowd. There were whispers coming from curious first years as she shuffled toward the ball. Her short, black hair reflected the light being refracted off the orb. She looked at Professor Snerkin, timidly, before taking the orb into her hands. The other first years waited cautiously to see exactly what would happen. The clear ball suddenly became red, then green”now yellow. It quickly rifled between the six colors of the halls. The light emanating from the orb was so bright that it could be seen by everyone in the hall, even though her body, as petite as it was, blocked most of the students from seeing the actual ball. It continued to shuffle the colors of the halls until it stopped, glistening, at the color red.
“Garrison Hall,” Professor Snerkin announced. The students sitting at the Garrison table had erupted in cheers; clearly happy to have the first student. Shinobu walked coyly to the table, struggling to hide a smile that was breaking onto her face.
“Aldridge, Nicholas,” was called, and yet another student cautiously stepped forward. He grabbed it tentatively, perhaps assuming it would react differently for him. The ball, however, did nothing different and again flashed many colors ending, this time, on green.
“Rylan Hall.”
More cheers ensued, as Nicholas found his way to the second table from the left and “Barlett, Jacob” approached Professor Sumpton and joined Shinobu at the Garrison table.
“Bellew, Henri.” Henri surfaced from the crowd; more bold than the other students. This didn’t appear to be because he was eager. His body was short in stature, and his crisply cut brown hair ruffled as he clomped his way toward the professor.
“Eet’s pronounced, ‘On-Ree Bell-Oh,” he corrected. By his tone it sounded as though it was not the first time his name was mispronounced. Professor Snerkin issued a short “sorry” and Henri began to be placed. When the ball stopped flashing on blue, those sitting at the Allard Hall table cheered even louder than all the tables before him.
The Mendel table applauded loudly as “Connor, Laura” became the first student to join their Hall and Professor Snerkin called another name.
“Crane, Elizabeth,” the professor announced, and she strolled casually to the orb. She hardly looked worried and stood holding it for almost a minute before she joined Henri at the Allard table.
There didn’t seem to be any way to figure out which hall each student would end up in. Patrick tried to look for patterns as “Crowder, Morgan” went to Garrison and “Davis, Mitchell” wandered over to Rylan, but he had a hard time making any connections between student and hall. The selections appeared to be made at random as there was no noticeable reason why “Dawes, Justin” was more fit for Templeton and why “Dempsey, Charlotte” would make a better Allard.
Patrick watched as “Denton, Caleb” was placed in Kinsey. He remembered that his Uncle Latimer ended up in Kinsey Hall, but knew nothing more about the hall than the fact that was used to be his uncle’s home.
Sarah, who was a bit nervous before entering the hall, had finally settled down; perhaps due to the relief of not having to trek a river of fire. It was after “Englert, Madison” was placed in Templeton and “Finley, Glen” was issued to a cheering Garrison table that she walked to the ball with more confidence as Professor Snerkin announced, “Forrester, Sarah.” The Garrison table cheered again when the red light shined from the orb.
The ball guided one “Gladwick, Maureen” to Rylan Hall with bright streaks of green and “Goldstein, Dexter” found a place at the Garrison table with a flash of red light.
Perhaps, there was a sequence that determined the hall and no matter what the order of students, this same sequence would repeat itself to place the remaining first years, Patrick thought. It didn’t seem to line up, however. More sporadic placing put “Hawbuck, Steven” in Garrison, “Hiller, Jonathan” in Allard, and “Horner, Jessica” in Kinsey, providing no indication between them of any formula used to help select halls. The placement ball put “Hudgens, Katie” along with the other Allards before Professor Snerkin called for “Huntington, Gregory” to be placed.
He approached, swaggering towards the column. Yellow. Templeton.
“Lawley, Edwin.” Orange. Mende. “Lickspittle, Marcus” found his way to Templeton with a yellow flash.
Blue. Green. Violet.
“Ludington, Samantha”, “MacDuffie, Jason”, and “Mickle, Martin” all found places to sit after their turn had passed.
Even though there were fewer students left than there had been to begin with, it seemed that there were so many left to place. It wasn’t until “Middling, Clarence” left for Templeton and “Minsky, Adam” became a Garrison that Patrick realized a fact that he had neglected.
“Moad, Orenda” a Native American girl, had stepped forward to the center before Patrick was lost in his own head. He had forgotten that along with Sarah, Elizabeth, and himself, William was also here. Patrick looked around at the bunch of students left and noticed William standing toward the front of the group waiting for his turned to be issued a hall.
The room flashed a bright violet, and Patrick was temporarily blinded as Orenda was placed in Kinsey Hall. He tried to maneuver his way between the dwindling group of students, but once again his small stature was a hindrance; especially since the other first years wanted to see where the others were being placed and did not budge from their comfortable viewing positions. There had to have been less than half of the original group left in the crowd and yet Patrick was relegated to the back of them.
“Morrison”…, “Ortega”…, “Owens”…, followed quickly by “Pinsley”…and “Plunkett”…, and “Pudderly”…
As the number of people being placed increased, Patrick had an easier time making it to the front of the line, but as his luck would have it, Professor Snerkin called the next name”
“Quinn, William,” and the boy, black hair still tied behind him, walked to the ball. Patrick froze where he was, eager to see which hall William would be placed in. The orb flickered for only a second and immediately flashed blue, placing him along with the others, in Allard.
Having missed his chance, once again, Patrick tried to think of things to pass the time until his name was called. I think Grandpa was in Garrison…or was it Templeton?
The group was beginning to diminish dramatically and waiting was becoming more of a chore.
“Rigby, Aaron.” Kinsey.
“Rivas, Arturo” and “Ross, Joshua.” Mendel.
“Singh, Leon.” Kinsey.
“Spinks, Lillian.” Mendel.
“Sweeney, Travis.” Allard.
“Tarpley, Jennifer.” Mendel.
When the professor finally called, “Thatcher, Patrick,” it was both a relief to put an end the wait and to learn which hall he would become a permanent student of.
Putting all other thoughts aside, Patrick ambled up to the column. The orb looked much bigger the closer he got to it. He placed his hands on the ball and a rush of warmth flew through his fingertips. The colors spun a bit faster than it did for the other students and Patrick began to feel very strange.
The gift his grandfather had given him inside of his robe pocket began to vibrate. What was he to do? He could not chance reaching in and opening the box in front of the entire school and he did not know how long the ball was going to take to select a hall. Hurry up and place me, please, he thought, fearing that he was drawing too much attention to himself. The ball, as though listening to him, finally halted at a glimmering blue.
“Allard Hall,” Professor Snerkin said, gesturing to the cheering table of navy-blue.
Patrick calmly walked over to his new table, grabbing a seat next to none other than William Quinn himself.
“Hello,” he said rather calmly for a boy who had just been rattled inside.
“Looks like we’re going to be together again,” William replied setting down his goblet, “first at Agnomon Square and now here.”
Patrick let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah.” His mouth was growing dry. He hastily grabbed his goblet and swallowed a mouthful of pumpkin juice. He finally had a chance to talk to William. Patrick had so many questions he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how William would react to them. He tried to approach the topic casually and uttered the first question that came to mind, ignoring the violet flash that momentarily lit the room.
“Say, you didn’t happen to receive any odd letters before the school year did you?”
“No, I don’t think so. All of my letters have been fairly ordinary,” William said, as the placement ball assigned “Thisby, Rebecca” to Kinsey.
Patrick was unsure if William was being sarcastic. He decided it would be best to elaborate a bit further, as “Thornfield, Simon” took a seat next to him.
“It’s just…I received a letter with your name on it accepting you to Wentwater,” he sputtered.
“That’s strange. I got my letter almost a year ago.” The placement ball shined orange and illuminated Patrick’s curious, scrunched up face. “I’ve got a late birthday,” William added.
“You don’t think that’s normal do you, for me to get a letter for you?” Patrick asked.
William put down his goblet after taking a sip and a green flash filled the room.
“Well, I’ve never heard of that happening before. You’d probably want to find out what happened.”
Patrick took notice of his words. He very much intended to discover what the cause of his letter mix-up was. Even though he had now met William he was no closer to finding any answers. Patrick turned around to watch a bit of the last students to be placed. An orange flash put “Wilde, Nathan” along with the Mendel table, red ones sent “Woods, Caroline” and “Worley, Ellen-Anne” to the Garrison crowd, while yellow and violet ones separated brown-haired twins, “York, Beverly” and “York, Wendy” into Templeton and Kinsey, respectively.
Professor Snerkin lowered the ball back into its box and took it away. The Hall was buzzing with the excited mutterings of several hundred students, but all the chatter ended when the wizard sitting in the middle of the staff table, at the head of the hall, stood to speak. He looked rather young to be the dean of a large wizard school, although his dark brown hair was not without its streaks of white, and his face without wrinkles. He wore the most outstanding sapphire robes that successfully hid his body of medium-build. Looking smug, as though he had given this speech a million times, he opened his mouth to speak.
“Welcome, everyone, to the beginning of a brand new year. It is my sincere hope, that both the new and returning students find comfort here, as Wentwater will be or has been your second home. I’d rather not drag on because I’m just as anxious as you young ones to eat. So, let us feast!”
His last word seemed to have been the trigger to an abundance of food that had magically appeared across all of the Hall tables. Professor Montgomery was right. At the sight of the mountains of food, everyone began tearing into anything they could get their hands on. Steak, corn, mashed potatoes, bread rolls all were being devoured by starving students. Patrick quickly filled his plate and began to chomp down the items before him.
The most popular topic at the Allard table”and it probably was at the other five tables as well”was family.
“I’m a ‘alf blood. My family wanted to move back to France so I could go to school where zey did,” Henri said, over loud noises of chewing and sipping.
Patrick had already heard about Elizabeth’s family on the train to Wentwater. The rest of the table, however, found Elizabeth’s father’s occupation rather intriguing.
“Yup, he works with the Muggle post office. Hand delivers most of the mail,” she said, surprised at the amount of people interested in her dad. “My mom and I keep trying to get him to use one of our owls to help, but he always refuses.”
“What about you, William?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’ve grown up with my father,” William began, “my family has had wizard blood in them as far back as you can trace.”
Patrick began to think maybe he and William, both Purebloods, were next to each other on the recipient list. It was a simple mistake where they had issued an extra letter to William instead of sending one to Patrick.
Patrick had opened his mouth to share with the others before he was cut off by William. “There’s no need to ask where you come from Patrick,” he spoke towards his direction.
“Yeah, I suppose not,” he said softly.
“We’ve all heard of the magnificent heroics of Emeritus Thatcher!” said Elizabeth, pronouncing ‘Thatcher’ as if it was the most important word in her sentence.
Patrick had never been recognized until people heard his last name. They would make a short comment about his grandfather and comment about how he, Patrick, is probably just as great as he was. Considering how he had never had any formal training, he always scoffed underneath his breath.
“You all probably know more about it than I do.”
“Oh, come on, Patty,” he heard his brother call, eavesdropping from a little ways down the table. Paul, too, was in Allard Hall, and since Patrick had joined him Paul had no excuse not to take care of his brother. “What do you mean? All those times he’s lectured us when we refuse to fetch him the paper or when we forget the sugar in his ginger root tea? Don’t tell me you haven’t heard a word of that?”
Patrick felt uncomfortable screaming across the table to reply. Before he could open his mouth, thankfully, the silver plates had been wiped clean and Professor Montgomery had stood once more to speak.
“For most of you it has been a long journey here, but before I send you off I must deliver the start of the year announcements,” he cleared his throat, pulled a small scroll from his pocket and placed a small pair of spectacles on his face. They made him look much older than he was, as the dean squinted through the lenses. “Let’s see…Although we never seem to have this problem, I must remind all students that it is not permissible to roam across the grounds after hours. The same rule applies for all buildings and your hall officers will assuredly be enforcing this strictly.
“Additionally,” he started moving the scroll down and squinting harder to read it, “it many interest and sadden some of you to learn that Wentwater will be starting its first Inter-Hall Quidditch cup in place of Quodpot this year.”
Most of the students, who apparently preferred Quodpot, groaned at the news; William, on the other hand, was the only one who applauded.
“The same procedures will apply as with the Quodpot team: only those who are second year or above may own their own brooms, but all students are allowed try out for the team. Your Hall Masters will inform you of any and all tryout dates.”
William looked genuinely excited and turned to another Allard sitting next to him.
“Are you going to try out for the Quidditch team?” he asked.
The boy merely shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ve never heard of”of ‘Kwidditch’ was it?” he responded. “Both my parents are Muggles, remember?”
“Oh, right. Sorry, Jon, just wondering,” said William, turning back to listen to the rest of Professor Montgomery’s speech.
“Lastly, I would encourage all of our new students to visit the Wentwater Historic Hall located in front of the commons. It’s always nice to know who came before you, so that you may learn from their examples.” He put back the scroll and the glasses into his robes and rubbed momentarily at his eyes. “I suppose I’ve talked enough, this evening. I won’t be keeping you. Hall officers you may show your students to their common rooms.”
Patrick and the other first years of Allard Hall rose from their seats and walked toward Paul and the same Muggle-born friend that had assisted in tearing apart Patrick’s room. Douglas Pickett was one of the senior officers of Allard Hall.
“New Allards, this way! Over here!” He waved his hands high above his head, signaling the others to follow him.
They marched outside the large doors of the Dining Hall back onto the cobblestone walkway. Patrick looked around for the lanterns that Professor Obelus had given them before he noticed that he no longer needed them. The grounds were now illuminated by bright yellow lights in several glass containers that were suspended from the numerous trees. The lights were bouncing around, sending their beams randomly against the ground, landing on the faces of the students. Once Patrick walked close enough to one of the containers, he realized that they were not lights, but in fact, fairies who had been dancing around inside their limited space.
Trotting along, Patrick and the others passed the Commons and what was unmistakably the Wentwater Historic Hall that Professor Montgomery had mentioned, across from it. Of all the buildings he had seen, Patrick judged that this building was definitely the oldest. He kept following the others noticing a few strands of ivy hanging off of some of the building’s corners. Douglas led the group into another building not far from the Historic Hall that had a large bell fixed upon a tower. Inside, they turned left down one corridor while a group behind them, Garrisons, headed right. The passageway was decorated with several portraits of wizards and witches who, as Patrick thought, were all former Wentwater students. They were very well kept, each with the same gold frame. When the group had finally come to a halt, they were standing before the largest of the portraits; a full-length picture of a man in colonial military garb hanging between two small ivory columns. The man in the portrait stood proudly, hands grasping his coat, and gazed down at the group huddled in front of him. Patrick looked up toward Douglas who had not yet said a word since stopping in front of the portrait. His face wore the distinct expression as if he was about to present a king to his kingdom. He stepped from among the other Allards and bowed in front of the portrait cracking his knuckles and recited a short poem:
“We’ve come at last to start anew,
I’ve brought forth students to welcome you.
Continuing traditions from years past,
Ones that, I do hope, will forever last.
Your time has come, it is now your turn,
We have bonds to make and lessons to learn.
But first, Admiral Polk, permit us through,
For a place to rest we now pursue.”
Many of the students standing behind him started giggling at the thought of a person speaking to a portrait and with poetry, no less. Patrick, while well aware of paintings that spoke, had never attempted to speak to one in rhyme; the thought had just never occurred to him. The snickering in the back of the crowd ended quickly once the man issued his own reply.
“Aha, very well done. And new pupils, yes…come in, come in!” he smiled gleefully while maintaining his dignified stature.
Douglas stepped directly through the portrait disappearing to the other side. Bewilderment flushed across Patrick as the portrait’s canvas rippled upon every student’s entry. He leaped quickly to the other side afraid and excited. A feeling of stepping through a sheet of frigid water swept all over Patrick’s body. When the icy cool sensation from entering the portrait had melted away, Patrick paraded into a large common room about a quarter of the size of the Dining Hall. There were fireplaces on each corner, and several tables with candles and chairs about them. Walking through to the farther end, admiring more portraits donning the walls, he stopped once more in front of Douglas, awaiting directions.
“That was Theodore Polk. Every year he demands we greet him with poetry in order to gain access for the year. I’ve heard one year the Allards were forced to stay on the Quodpot field because the officer forgot to write a poem. Anyway, from here on out all you’ll need is a simple, ‘hogwash’ and he shouldn’t give you any trouble. Over through this hallway are the boy’s rooms and this one leads to the girl’s,” he yawned a bit in between his words, the drowsiness could almost be seen growing in his eyes. Some of the older students stayed up chatting and playing games. While Patrick very much wished to join the festivities, he, like Douglas, was very exhausted from all of the day’s events. Patrick ambled down the hall of many doors and even through his drowsiness, he was able to find his room upon his first guess. He did not bother to survey the room but, instead, plopped onto the closest bed, wrapped himself in the blue covers, and dozed mindlessly off to sleep.