“Above all, we must now learn to integrate all of sorcery and repudiate the line between what is ‘Dark’ magic and what is not, recognizing that such divisions shall only exist so long as society upholds them. For just as day and night are linked by the same thread of being, the Dark Arts are inextricably woven into the modern art of magic, often so much and so subtly that the sources of some spells have been obliterated from history entirely...”
An excerpt from Essays, by Emeraldo Harrington. c. 1750.
It was the last day of August, and as usual, Nella and her mother were late.
The letter she had received from school, “annoyingly omniscient” as her mother called it, gave specific instructions for young witches and wizards who lived in the Muggle world on how to purchase their school supplies. It encouraged them to get an early start, but even so, her mother had managed to put it off until the last minute, ignoring the red circles on their calendar and the piles of notes lying on the counter.
It wasn’t until the sun dawned on the morning before the start of the term that Nella finally worked up the courage to approach her with the envelope. Her mother swore loudly, grabbed Nella by the hand, and rushed with her into town.
They were to arrive through a place called the Leaky Cauldron, which Muggles couldn’t see, but Muggles accompanied by wizards could pass through. They ran up and down the streets in search of it, looking left and right, before Nella finally saw the sign crop out from between two shops. It was rusty, inscribed with a smoking cauldron. The other passersby seemed to pay it no mind, even though it stood out as plain as day to her.
“It’s here.” Nella pointed, pulling her mother forward.
The Leaky Cauldron was a pub, dark and pungent with the aroma of alcohol. As soon as Martha and Nella Puckett stepped through the doors, dressed in their colourful end-of-summer attire, a good deal of the conversation went silent. The people at the bar turned, as did the barman, and a few others who were grouped at the tables. Their faces leered in the candlelight.
No one said a word.
Martha tightened her grip on Nella’s arm. “Come on.” She took the lead, muttering under her breath.
When they passed to the back door, one of the seated, sober-looking men lifted his pointed hat in respect. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ladies. Off to Hogwarts, I presume?”
Nella turned to reply, but her mother tugged her along before she could.
They reached a small, open alleyway that ended abruptly in a brick wall. Beyond it, Nella could hear the empty rush of wind, but nothing more. Martha took out the temporary wand that had been mailed to them and tapped the bricks.
At once, the wall pulled apart like some sort of cement curtain, the bricks turning and collapsing into each other to reveal a sunny shopping street. It was teeming with people, all dressed like the ones in the pub: robes, pouches, and hats. The women’s were often bigger and lacier than the men’s, and were adorned with exotic flowers and feathers. Nella and her mother, the two new arrivals in their plain city clothes, stuck out like sore thumbs.
Martha must have noticed her daughter’s sudden self-consciousness, for she tilted Nella’s face to hers and leaned close. “Don’t give me that look, Nella. You are just as good as they are. If you go out there respecting yourself, they will respect you. Do you hear me?”
Nella nodded.
The first place they went was to the bank, Gringotts. According to the letter, pounds and shillings would be no good in the wizarding world, so they had to exchange their currency for things called Sickles, Knuts, and Galleons.
On the inside, the bank was enormous, grand, and marble”a bank like any other, it seemed. Then Nella saw the staff. She had to blink twice before she could believe what she was seeing: The creatures that sat behind the counters and led clients through doors had a vaguely human build, except that they were several feet shorter than anyone else, with wrinkly skin and large, knowing eyes.
“Goblins, sweetie,” whispered her mother, tightening her hand around Nella’s own. “Don’t stare. It’s rude.”
They rushed past long lines, finding one of the available clerks. Her mother approached the counter with a small sack.
“We have some money to be exchanged for Hogwarts shopping. My name is Martha Puckett and this is my daughter Nella. We’re Muggles,” she proclaimed loudly, so that the surrounding people stared.
The goblin eyed them curiously, then bowed his head. “Very well.”
Nella’s mother placed the money onto the counter, and the goblin took out a set of scales. He swiped the Muggle money onto one cup, and into the other he put a number of gold, silver, and bronze coins. The scales seemed to be enchanted. They paid no attention to the laws of gravity; instead, they seemed to weigh the money according to value. The goblin balanced the two by adding and removing coins accordingly, and when the scales were even, he placed the wizarding money into a pouch and handed it to them. When Nella backed away, she saw the Muggle money disappear in a puff of smoke.
From there, they browsed the stores. Wizarding shops were just like normal shops, Nella realized, except that their signs often blinked and rearranged their letters, and there was an assortment of strange items at the front of almost every one. She didn’t get a chance to look around, for her mother, as always, went straight to business.
Nella needed schoolbooks. They went to a store called Flourish and Blotts, stepping out of the way of the other customers while she picked out the titles on her list. Her mother trailed along behind her, holding the books Nella passed to her, and made sure that they didn’t dawdle. Nella would love to have stayed and browsed, for whenever she saw a large collection of books, she would instantly be lost.
Reading was her hobby practically to the point of addiction. There was something about the written word that calmed her, cleared her mind of all those troubling thoughts by letting her escape into the lives of others. Nella had never been fussy as a child, always preferring to curl up on a sunny day rather than go outside. This habit had cost her the childhood norm of playmates, but it had given her a certain patience, and helped her succeed in school. There was no bad without good, as her mother liked to say.
The next item on the list was the school uniform. They went to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, where Nella was fitted for long black robes while her mother stood by the window, playing with an enchanted pinwheel she had been given on the streets by a complete stranger.
“There is no point in this at all,” she said, scowling as she tried to spin it, only to have the blades turn in the opposite direction.
While the tailor worked, Nella’s eyes alighted upon a small tapestry that hung on the wall. It was a crest of some sort, featuring a badger, and eagle, a lion, and a snake entwined under the letter ‘H’. She had never seen such a thing before, and curiosity got the better of her.
“Ma’am? What does that emblem stand for? ” Nella asked the tailor, a smiling young lady with curly hair.
“That would be the Hogwarts crest, dear. The four animals represent the four houses. You’ll be sorted in with the other new students when you arrive at school.”
Nella looked down at her feet, where the tailor had lain several needles and tape measures. “What’s the difference between the houses?”
“Nothing, really. You live in your house’s own separate dormitory, you take classes with the first-years in your house, but as a whole, everyone’s still part of the same school.” The tailor gave an encouraging smile, but Nella sensed something else behind it, a subtle strain. She kept her silence for the rest of the hour.
The last shop of the day was the wandmaker’s. Since a wand was something that every wizard needed (as far as Nella knew, at least), she expected any shop that sold them to be big, brightly-lit, and teeming with clientele.
Ollivander’s was none of those things.
The shop was dingy and silent, disturbed only by the rusty tinkle of a bell when Nella entered. Light filtered through the dirty windows, spilling onto shelves and shelves of tiny little boxes stacked on all sides, all the way towards the ceiling. There were more in the back.
They waited for several minutes before her mother’s patience wore thin. “Hello?” Martha called. “Is anybody here? There was an ‘open’ sign on the window, and my daughter is starting her first year at Hogwarts.”
There was a rustle and a muffled crash. “Coming, coming!”
A man stepped out from the back room, his hair disheveled, arms full of more black boxes. He bumped into the table, and they spilled onto the counter, which was already piled with clutter. He waved his hand at the mess and approached them, panting.
But before Nella could get out a single word, the man lifted a finger to silence her. “Right. Right. Hold out your wand arm, please.”
“My what?”
“Oh, sorry. The hand you write with will do fine. Yes, that’s it.” Nella held up her right hand. The man took out a tape measure and began to measure the length of her arm, and her height. Then he dropped the tape altogether and went back to the pile, but instead of falling to the ground as it should have, the tape remained in the air and began taking other measurements on its own.
“I am Ollivander, owner of this shop. I made every wand that’s in here.” He rummaged for a bit, and brought back a box. “Try this.”
Nella opened it and took out a long, thin wand. It felt cool in her hands.
Ollivander looked at it for a moment. His gray eyes studied her heavily, and then he shook his head. “Nope. We’ll try again.” He went back to the boxes.
“Sir,” Martha cut in, “I don’t understand why my daughter can’t look around on her own. She is perfectly capable of making a rational decision””
“No, no, no.” Ollivander waved her down, still shuffling through boxes. “The wand chooses the witch or wizard. So it has been for thousands of years, since the first wands came to be.”
Martha balked, as if this was the most outrageous thing she had ever heard. For once, Nella agreed with her, though she knew better than to complain. She simply waited it out while Ollivander placed wand after wand into her hand, and soon began to notice that they differed in length, thickness, and colour. But when she took them in hand, they all felt the same”cold and heavy.
At wand number twelve, Nella was getting tired. The tape measure waited patiently at her side as she swapped one wand for the next. Ollivander did not seem to mind at all; in fact, he seemed to be getting more energetic by the second. While Nella and her mother wilted with exhaustion, his smile grew all the wider with every new wand, and he soon began to hum to himself as he went back and forth.
He handed her Wand Number Twenty-One. Nella wasn’t aware of it at first, but the wand felt light, and somehow friendly. Instead of flicking it, she felt the urge to twirl it around, as if to draw lines in the air. To her surprise, the wand began to sketch in a shade of cool silver, illuminating her strokes and making them shimmer. The pattern hung in thin air for a moment, then vanished, leaving Nella breathless.
Ollivander clapped his hands. “Splendid! We’ve found it. Hardly anyone gets their match the first time, of course, so I apologize for the wait. But yes, this wand seems to do it. Yours is eleven inches, made of willow, and with a unicorn hair core.”
“Unicorn?” Nella looked at him, surprised.
“Why yes. Every Ollivander wand has, as its core, a powerful magical substance. Unicorns are very powerful creatures, and their hairs are valuable for potion-making and much, much more.”
Martha snorted. Ollivander looked at them both, eyebrows raised.
Nella rushed to explain. “Sorry. It’s just that... for Muggles, unicorns aren’t exactly real.”
To her surprise, he smiled. “Neither are dragons, young lady, but the world is full of surprises, isn’t it?”
They left rather quickly after that.
The next morning, there was no time for goodbyes. Nella’s mother rushed her to King’s Cross station, where she would shortly be running into a pillar made of very solid-looking bricks to get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Nella had her trunk, and all her new possessions with her.
They stopped in front of the barrier, and Martha leaned close. “Write to me. You can borrow an owl from the school Owlery.”
Nella nodded her promise. “I will.”
Martha cupped her daughter’s face in her hands, as she always used to do when Nella was young. “Have a great year. I love you.”
Nella flushed at the gesture. “I love you too.”
There was nothing more to say between them. Nella’s mother gave her a light push, and she crossed over.
Voices. Bodies. They all moved past me without stopping, a thousand streams of spinning, smiling faces. I was numb to their excitement. Seeing the train rise out from a cloud of mist in the distance, I was gripped by a sudden fear. At that moment, all I wanted was to turn back, to tell my mother I had changed my mind and beg her to take me home. But I kept going.
I moved across the platform slowly, gripping the bar of my trolley for support. No one was familiar, and yet they all seemed to know each other.
I was alone.
And then I met Myrtle.
chug-a chug-a chug-a chug-a chug-a chug-a
boom.
The ground beneath her gave a jerk, and Nella woke from her steady sleep.
For a minute, she had forgotten where she was. Then, the glint of light from the ceiling combined with the sounds of frenzied, muffled movement from the neighboring compartments brought her back to awareness.
Nella was lying with her back against the wall of the Hogwarts Express, her feet up on the seat, arms folded over her stomach. It seemed like she had only just closed her eyes against the morning light and drifted off for about a minute or two after leaving London. But to her shock, the sun had already gone, and the window was masked with black.
In the seat across from her, Myrtle stirred. She had been dozing as well. “Are we there yet?” She looked up at the window.
“It doesn’t look like it.” Nella peeled back the blinds, but the train was still moving, still speeding towards its destination through miles of shadowy land. “How far is Hogwarts anyway?”
Myrtle rubbed her eyes. “Well, we left London. And the castle’s somewhere in Scotland... I forget exactly where, but it’s definitely a long ride.”
Suddenly, a hand pressed itself against the window of their compartment. Nella jumped at the sound.
The hand remained where it was for a moment, disembodied, before the rest of a tall, lanky girl stepped into view, decked in robes of full black. She looked about their age, and walked with a slow, steady precision as she surveyed the aisle.
The girl seemed as if she had meant to simply skim her gaze past their compartment and keep walking, but something in the process made her stop. When she saw them, she clamped her hand over her mouth and slid open the door.
“What are you two doing?” she screeched. “You’re supposed to be changing! We’ll be at the school soon and you have to have your robes on! Hurry up!”
“We were sleeping,” Nella mumbled.
“I don’t care! Do it now!” said the girl. “And don’t look at me like that!” She turned to Myrtle, who had given her a contemptuous glare. The girl closed the door and strode off.
“People can be so rude,” Myrtle remarked.
“Agreed.”
“Well, we better get to it, I guess.”
They took down their luggage and changed, hearing the excited noise grow louder and louder around them. They were almost at the school.
The uniforms were surprisingly light and soft, despite the many layers of clothing they included. The hems of the robes brushed Nella’s shoes, and draped like curtains around her frame. It felt strange to be dressed in full wizard attire, almost as if she had put on a whole new persona. Even Myrtle, whom she had known for less than a day, looked strikingly different. Elegant, graceful.
As they beheld each other in their new clothes, Myrtle smiled and winked. “I can’t wait.”
Soon enough, the train came to a stop. Nella pulled the blinds up at once, eager to see the school, but all she saw was a row of trees illuminated against the night sky. People were already getting to their feet, hundreds of bodies in those same black robes shuffling out of their compartments and down the aisle. She and Myrtle joined the pack, and they were jostled and shoved as they made their way forward.
Nella hastened to keep up, trying to find a place to put her foot that wasn’t already being trampled on by ten others. Suddenly, something collided with her shoulder, slamming her hard against the wall. Nella let out a groan of pain. Without batting an eye, Myrtle turned back and hoisted her to her feet, tugging Nella along. She was a train in her own right, pushing on and on through the crowd, her arm out to clear the way.
The platform outside was packed. Steam was rushing out from various holes in the train’s body, rising up into the evening haze with hundreds of voices and lights. Some students carried bags, pulling enormous trunks on wheels and cages with screeching owls.
Nella could distinguish a few groups by age. Older kids went immediately to the right, down the platform and into the darkness. Other kids were led in another direction, filing themselves into orderly groups.
The youngest kids, the other first-years, were packing against the stone wall that bordered the platform, neither here nor there. Nella and Myrtle hurried over to join them.
Boisterous laughter rose out from the general chatter as they passed. A group of kids had separated themselves from the others against the wall and formed a circle.
“I’ll absolutely die if I’m not in Gryffindor...”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“It’s me that they’ll have trouble Sorting…”
“I heard that they’re only taking twelve Slytherins a year now!”
A boy turned to speak to a girl in their group. “Which one do you want to be in, Olive?” he asked.
Nella recognized the girl that had shouted at them earlier. She flipped back her hair and smiled. “I hope I’m in Ravenclaw. That’s the best by far.”
More giggling.
“I’d like Hufflepuff,” came a whisper. The group of kids froze. Olive turned to the boy who had spoken.
“What are you talking about, Jerry? Hufflepuff is for losers.”
“How do you know?” another girl piped up.
“Because I’ve read about all the houses. Slytherin is the house for pure-bloods, mostly, though they’ll take half-bloods if they’re motivated. Gryffindor takes everyone, Ravenclaw takes all the smart kids, though they’re mostly half and pure anyway, and Hufflepuff... they take the Muggle-borns. And the other stupid kids who’ve got nowhere else to go. Thing is, even if you’re a wizard, being around Muggles rubs off on you.”
There were more mutterings at this. Some of the kids against the wall shook their heads in disdain. But Nella lingered on Olive’s words in wonder, feeling slightly betrayed. There was more to the Houses, after all.
“I wonder who the Muggle-borns are this year,” someone continued.
“You can always tell,” Olive replied. “It’s all in the face. Look at her, for example.” She pointed to their vicinity. For a thrilling second, Nella thought that Olive had been talking to her, but then Myrtle drew back in definite affront.
“What?”
Olive nodded. “Definitely you, pigtails. With brains like yours, I’m surprised they even let you in here.”
Myrtle stiffened. Her head drooped, and in the light’s pallid glow, Nella saw her face contort.
“Don’t listen to them!” she urged at once. “It’s no reason to get upset. It shouldn’t matter at all who your parents are, right? Magic is magic.”
But the moment was gone as soon as it had come. When Myrtle lifted her head again, her face was flat and calm, and her voice bore no trace of emotion. “I’m okay,” she said. “Really.”
She might have added more, but right then, she fell silent. Looking over someone’s shoulder, Nella saw the reason.
At that moment, as quiet as a fox, a tall, rugged man had appeared from a hidden entrance and approached their crowd. His appearance was a striking contrast from the prim, cleanly-dressed students. His clothing was loose and comfortable, chosen as if for a hike in the woods. He wore heavy black boots, and instead of robes, a leather cape that brushed the ground as he walked.
The man eased into the crowd of first-years and stood among them, hands in his pockets, an oblivious smile on his face as he pretended to be one of them. Then silence fell in degrees as the others became aware of his presence. Even Olive’s group stopped talking, staring at him in awe. When the platform was completely still, he spoke.
“Well, hello!” he said. “It’s not much use standing here, is it? My name is Ogg, and I’m the Hogwarts gamekeeper. I might not seem like much, but I hold quite an important position. I will have the honor of escorting you to the school tonight. Who’s excited?”
A few first-years made a feeble attempt at a cheer. Ogg grimaced. “That was terrible. I ask again”who’s excited?”
The cheer was louder this time. Nella, utterly perplexed, remained silent. Ogg pulled a wand from his pockets and sent a shower of coloured sparks into the air. They crackled and boomed like fireworks. “That’s more like it! Now if you will please proceed in an orderly line behind me, I will show you through the Hogwarts grounds. Stay close, mind you. I don’t want anybody getting lost.”
The first-years sorted themselves into a passable line, and they followed after Ogg. The kids at the front had to walk several paces behind him to avoid stepping on his cape.
He led them down to the very end of the platform, where the lamplight began to fade, and darkness stretched out before them. As soon as they stepped onto an unpaved dirt path, Ogg took out his wand.
“It’s awful dark, isn’t it?” He muttered a word, something that sounded like lumos, and a ball of white light shot out from the tip. The first-years ooooh-ed.
Ogg grinned. “You’ll be learning how to do that, and more.”
From behind the crowns of trees rose the tip of a single, dark tower, its silhouette striking against the night.
As they continued, the school grounds unfolded like a multilayered shell to bring the building into view. Only it wasn’t a building at all”it was a castle, grand and dominating in its immensity. Tiny orange lights glinted from its many windows, casting their reflection upon the surface of a great, vast lake. Beyond it, Nella saw slips of bare, shadowy land that stretched to infinity on all sides. Gasps echoed all around her.
Ogg made a motion with his wand, as if spinning an invisible yarn with it in the air, and a number of small wooden boats rose up to the surface of the lake. They were rowboats by the looks of it, though they had no oars that Nella could see. Ogg boarded the boat at the very front, and beckoned to them.
“Well, get in! Three to a boat and no more. They are rather small, I’m afraid, and I wouldn’t like for any of you to fall overboard on your first night at Hogwarts. Then I’d have to dangle you in the air for the rest of the ride to make sure it won’t happen again.” There was a great deal of laughter at this.
Nella and Myrtle jumped immediately to the front, picking the boat directly behind Ogg. The rest of the first-years followed suit, filling up the boats around them. Ogg waved his wand again, and the lamps on each boat flickered to life, casting a bright orange stain against the darkness. There was a grunt and a shuffle, and Nella felt a third person climb in behind her.
“Is everyone settled?” Ogg looked back and smiled. “Off we go, then!”
The fleet of boats started with a jolt and began to sail towards the giant castle. The swirl of lights from the windows held Nella transfixed as she tried to fathom the castle’s sheer size.
“Our classes will actually be in there?” Nella marveled.
“Your classes, your meals, and your dormitories,” replied Ogg. Myrtle made a faint choking noise.
Behind her, Nella heard a sigh. She turned, and for the first time, saw the face of their companion”a slender, pale-faced boy. His eyes were a deep-set brown, almost black, and they made her think of winding tunnels, the lonely kind that swallow you in their depths before you ever get to the light. His hair stirred in the wind, and he looked up at the castle as if it were the eighth wonder of the world.
Nella turned away quickly before he could notice her, fixing her stare upon the back of Myrtle’s head for the rest of the trip.
The boats stopped on the lake’s opposite bank. The first-years followed Ogg down a path into a winding hallway, and finally to a landing beside a long flight of stairs. The steps ascended to a set of impossibly tall wooden doors, where a man in long, elegant robes awaited them.
“Welcome, first-years!” said the man. “Ogg, I must say, you have truly outdone yourself this year. I could not have imagined getting everyone here with such haste myself.”
Ogg nodded. “My pleasure, Professor.” And then to the first-years, “Here is where I leave you all. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you around school!” Ogg bowed, and left.
The man on the staircase now turned to address them all. His auburn beard twitched as he smiled. “It is truly a delight to see you all here,” he said. “My name is Professor Dumbledore. The doors behind me lead to the Great Hall, which is the center of ceremonies and feasting. You will begin the year by stepping through these doors, where you will be Sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is an ancient tradition held every year for new students. For those who are not familiar with our houses, they are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. Good behavior will earn your house points, and bad behavior will cost your house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup. It is an admirable accomplishment, so I ask you to be on your best behavior, if not for yourself, then for those around you.”
There was a brief murmur. Nella was puzzled at the man’s voice, which seemed quiet and friendly on its own, but was able to immediately cast silence upon them all.
“And now, we begin! Follow me, please.” Dumbledore turned, and at once, the doors opened inward, flooding Nella’s face with golden light. After the initial shock of brilliance, the light cleared to reveal a magnificent hall. Four long, wooden tables ran down the length of the room, beneath a sea of floating candles. The tables were all filled with students, who turned in waves, eager to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals.
Led by Professor Dumbledore, their procession advanced to the head of the room, where several teachers sat at a long, raised table. The chair at the center, the largest and grandest, was occupied by an elderly wizard who led the staff in applause.
Dumbledore stopped in front of the table and stood up to face the school, unfurling a long piece of parchment. The people in front began to whisper excitedly. It wasn’t until Nella had slipped past them that she realized what everyone was staring at.
In front of the teacher’s table, at the head of the raised platform, was a tiny wooden stool. On the stool was a hat, ancient and tattered, the kind someone would wear on their Halloween costume.
“That’s the Sorting Hat!” someone exclaimed. “My gosh, it’s a legend!”
“But how is a hat supposed to decide which house we’ll be in?” Nella asked aloud.
The voice of Olive, who was standing right behind her, answered. “You just put it on. And then it looks inside your mind to see how smart you are. I told you, I wasn’t kidding.”
Nella looked back at the hat. It seemed to be moving of its own accord, flexing and twisting like a muscle. Suddenly, the hat opened a mouth that had been hid in its many folds and began to sing. Its voice was rough and strong, like ancient fabric.
When I was sewn
There lived four friends
Who all were known
They had a dream
That was to see
Young witches, wizards, who would be
Friends and students
Family.
At one school with four houses
One for every mind
Different but through time gone by
Justly intertwined…
As she absorbed the words of the song, Nella became aware of the tables around her. She looked closer at the students, and saw that they were sitting in an arrangement. The ones to her left sat beneath rows of red-and-gold tapestries, blue-and-bronze on the other side. On the far right, she could see the students beneath the yellow-and-black emblems. They were the Hufflepuffs, for the name of their house was sewn into the fabric along with the crest of the badger. They looked at the line of first-years with mild interest, peering over the heads of the Ravenclaws. One of them caught Nella’s eye and smiled.
“They seem nice,” she whispered, more to herself than anything. “I don’t even care what house they’re in. I want to be around nice people.”
“That’s a great attitude!” came a silky voice. Olive was standing right behind her now, and Nella could hear her words above the hat’s continuing song. “Once you’re there, you’ll realize that Hufflepuff is better than nothing. The Sorting Hat doesn’t have to accept everybody, you know. It could just say that you don't belong here and send you home. It’s happened before.”
The words themselves didn’t sting”rather, it was the way with which she had said them that made Nella’s vision blur.
Myrtle seemed to read her thoughts. She pulled Nella aside and linked an arm with hers, eyes blazing with crazed excitement. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll be Hufflepuffs together!”
Nella could only nod in return.
With a final, lengthy note, the hat’s song concluded. There was a round of applause from the tables. At the front of the room, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Please step up when your name is called!”
The Great Hall fell silent again as he began reading names of first-years from an alphabetized list. The first one to go was a boy. He sat down on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. It remained still for a second or two, and then opened its mouth and shouted for the whole hall to hear:
“GRYFFINDOR!”
The red-and-gold table roared with applause. The boy, smiling, went to sit down among them.
The next person was called. This time the hat shouted: “HUFFLEPUFF!”
Olive and her friends tittered, but the boy did not seem to mind his placement at all. He skipped over to the Hufflepuff table, which welcomed him with a roaring whoop.
“Atwood, Myrtle!”
“Wish me luck,” Myrtle said, and ran forward.
The hat was placed on her head. It was so big on her that its brim rested on her nose. Nella held her breath”
“RAVENCLAW!”
Olive was silent as Myrtle, beaming with surprise and gratitude, made her way to the Ravenclaw table. Blood pounded in Nella’s ears. If she couldn’t be in Ravenclaw too, then she would lose Myrtle.
Five minutes passed. With nearly half of their group sorted, the remaining kids huddled closer and closer together, following with wide eyes every time someone else was called forward. Nella’s body began to shake against her better judgment, her hands tightening into fists around her robes. Olive Hornby had been made a Ravenclaw as well, as had some of her friends. They had all gotten what they wanted.
Finally, amid the cheers: “Puckett, Nella!”
Her breathing quickened. This moment would either make her or break her. Nella stumbled up to the chair, still trying to calm the quakes that wracked her body. The whole school seemed to be staring, which didn’t help in the slightest.
She took her seat. Somewhere among the crowd sat Myrtle, looking up at her intently. She held up her fingers to show that they were tightly crossed.
Thump.
Nella felt the hat’s dead weight placed upon her head. But beneath the burden, she felt something else... almost like a second consciousness pressing upon her own.
For a while, silence.
...
...
Oh God. It wouldn’t sort her. Olive had been right. She would sit there, and the hat would announce that there was no house for her, and that she would have to go home. Frantically, Nella thought of her mother. Would she be happy? Sad? Or would she not care at all?
Nella closed her eyes, feeling the heat of shame bloom beneath her face.
How long are we going to pretend?
She froze. The voice came from nowhere, and yet everywhere, reverberating through the whole hall. No one else seemed to stir, making her believe she had been the only one who heard it.
“... What?” she whispered.
I see your mind. You hold a desire for greatness. A longing to prove yourself, and yet you fear to use your skill... You are torn between two paths. But only one house will get you where you need to be... yes... I think that will do just fine”
“SLYTHERIN!”
Nella’s eyes flew open. The din of applause and the flood of light in her eyes as the hat was removed was like being born again. A hand gently turned her to the table on the far right, where dozens of students beneath the green-and-silver tapestries were applauding her inclusion into their house.
She passed them by in a daze. Most of the applauders went back to their conversations, though some still clapped their own rhythm. She approached the very end of the table, where the other Slytherin first-years were seated, not talking. She plopped down beside them. The empty seat in front of her felt like a hole in the world. From here, she could see the Ravenclaw table, but Myrtle’s face was lost among countless others.
Nella’s eyes drifted down to her knees. Not even the thought of Olive Hornby’s face, possibly disappointed from her two failed predictions, lightened her mood. She was alone. There would be no one to help her this time, no mother to lean on, not even a friend to talk to.
The sound of the Sorting drowned out in her ears. Her table began to clap again; someone else had just been made a Slytherin. She didn’t look to see who it was, still lost in rounds of pointless thought.
Then the bench creaked as someone sat down across from her. Nella looked up, and to her utter astonishment, found herself staring at the dark-haired boy from the boat, the one she had looked at a second longer than usual.
He held her gaze for a moment, looked at the other new Slytherins, then finally back into his plate.
No bad without good, her mother had said.
For the first time, Nella believed it.