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Hogwarts: Part 4
Good morning party people. Here is a very brief update (written before class, woot!) to the story, cause I was worried I wouldn't have time later, and also cause I was worried I'd procrastinate by rewritting what I did yesterday instead of proceeding - I have this very bad habit of, when I don't really like what I've written, I'll stall and procrastinate writting more by simply rehashing what I've already written. But I'm determined to actually write this story, and actually FINISH it, so I refuse to be distracted by such insignificant stuff.
Have I mentioned I hate Friday mornings? I HATE Friday mornings. It'll be better next semester, though, when I don't have a fricken 9 AM class. Anyway, onto the Hogwarts-y ness!
I couldn’t honestly say how long the silence that followed the Headmaster’s order lasted. As is so often the case with such things, at the time I could swear it was an eternity, an interminable length of time with no sound or movement but for some of the occasional rustle of cloth or heavy breath. In those long minutes, I remember reflecting on my own sorting with annoyance, for the memory still rankled even after two years. My name had been called, I had stepped forward, and the hat had been set on my head. I remember the certainty I had that I would be placed in Slytherin house, so certain that it never occurred to me that the hat might say anything else. My brother, my parents, my grandparents, and back farther in my direct line had all been of Slytherin. I was intelligent, I knew that, I was ambitious, or so I thought, and, most importantly, I couldn’t even conceive of being placed anywhere else. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that all that might not be enough. As it slowly dawned on me that the hat would be sorting me elsewhere, I remember being it, pleading with it to place me in Slytherin, but it was not to be, for the hat was adamant. But I’m starting a business, I whined, isn’t that ambition? Aren’t I just like all those Slytherin’s in the past? No, no, it said in my mind, and without further preamble, for all to hear it had shouted, “Ravenclaw.” I wonder, now, what my life would have been like had I been sorted as I wished. Somehow, though, I suspect that it was much better this way, for the hat had me down solidly. I never believed all of that gibberish about superior blood. I’d seen enough of our family tree to realize that it was all nonsense, and I’d watched enough of the actual world to realize that half-bloods, even muggles, had something to contribute. Though of course hating non-wizards isn’t technically part of the Slytherin creed, it has become almost a requirement at least in the social sense – a Slytherin who shows compassion for anyone not of pure blood is a Slytherin who doesn’t have any friends at all.
Finally, after many minutes of such thoughts, the first years shuffled into the room, the sound of their foot steps scuffling on the stone floor upsettingly loud in the silent hall. Many of the students seem to realize this, for they looked both mortified and terrified, trying to be quiet, realizing that it wasn’t really possible, as they stepped up in neat single file to the chair on which the sorting hat sat.
One by one, pale and frightened, the new first years were sorted by the hat. I was very surprised to notice that not all of the new students were, in fact, first years. One young lady, named Celestine, who appeared to be older than me was sorted into Ravenclaw house, and I resolved to ask her what was going on. That wasn’t the only surprise, though. The thinned ranks of Hogwarts students at the house tables were reflected in the upsettingly small number of new students in comparison to past years. And again, I didn’t know what to think, I wondered if I should be worried, and expected that I should be. I hoped greatly that my questions would be answered by the new student, Celestine, or if perhaps one of the new first years in my house, Galatea and Eileen.
Edit: added an additional paragraph to today's writing at 5:20, but don't have time for more today!
Have I mentioned I hate Friday mornings? I HATE Friday mornings. It'll be better next semester, though, when I don't have a fricken 9 AM class. Anyway, onto the Hogwarts-y ness!
I couldn’t honestly say how long the silence that followed the Headmaster’s order lasted. As is so often the case with such things, at the time I could swear it was an eternity, an interminable length of time with no sound or movement but for some of the occasional rustle of cloth or heavy breath. In those long minutes, I remember reflecting on my own sorting with annoyance, for the memory still rankled even after two years. My name had been called, I had stepped forward, and the hat had been set on my head. I remember the certainty I had that I would be placed in Slytherin house, so certain that it never occurred to me that the hat might say anything else. My brother, my parents, my grandparents, and back farther in my direct line had all been of Slytherin. I was intelligent, I knew that, I was ambitious, or so I thought, and, most importantly, I couldn’t even conceive of being placed anywhere else. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that all that might not be enough. As it slowly dawned on me that the hat would be sorting me elsewhere, I remember being it, pleading with it to place me in Slytherin, but it was not to be, for the hat was adamant. But I’m starting a business, I whined, isn’t that ambition? Aren’t I just like all those Slytherin’s in the past? No, no, it said in my mind, and without further preamble, for all to hear it had shouted, “Ravenclaw.” I wonder, now, what my life would have been like had I been sorted as I wished. Somehow, though, I suspect that it was much better this way, for the hat had me down solidly. I never believed all of that gibberish about superior blood. I’d seen enough of our family tree to realize that it was all nonsense, and I’d watched enough of the actual world to realize that half-bloods, even muggles, had something to contribute. Though of course hating non-wizards isn’t technically part of the Slytherin creed, it has become almost a requirement at least in the social sense – a Slytherin who shows compassion for anyone not of pure blood is a Slytherin who doesn’t have any friends at all.
Finally, after many minutes of such thoughts, the first years shuffled into the room, the sound of their foot steps scuffling on the stone floor upsettingly loud in the silent hall. Many of the students seem to realize this, for they looked both mortified and terrified, trying to be quiet, realizing that it wasn’t really possible, as they stepped up in neat single file to the chair on which the sorting hat sat.
One by one, pale and frightened, the new first years were sorted by the hat. I was very surprised to notice that not all of the new students were, in fact, first years. One young lady, named Celestine, who appeared to be older than me was sorted into Ravenclaw house, and I resolved to ask her what was going on. That wasn’t the only surprise, though. The thinned ranks of Hogwarts students at the house tables were reflected in the upsettingly small number of new students in comparison to past years. And again, I didn’t know what to think, I wondered if I should be worried, and expected that I should be. I hoped greatly that my questions would be answered by the new student, Celestine, or if perhaps one of the new first years in my house, Galatea and Eileen.
Edit: added an additional paragraph to today's writing at 5:20, but don't have time for more today!