Chapter Nine: Across the Black Lake
The start-of-term procedure, as Elian remembered it, usually involved the gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, shepherding the first-years across the lake. Tonight, however, a different figure waited for them on the dark platform.
She was a short, elderly witch with a face like a kindly, weathered walnut and a chin so pronounced it could have been used as a bookmark. She clutched a long, thin pipe in one hand.
"First-years! This way, don't dawdle!" she called, her voice carrying a no-nonsense warmth. "You lot come with me. The older students take a different route. You're getting the scenic tour, so look lively!"
Elian recognised her instantly: Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, the substitute Care of Magical Creatures teacher. If she's here… His mind raced. Hagrid must be on the secret mission Dumbledore had mentioned—travelling with Madame Maxime to try and sway the giants away from Voldemort's influence. The war was already moving in the shadows.
He fell into step at the back of the chattering, anxious crowd of eleven-year-olds. He stuck out like a sore thumb, a head taller than most, his face lacking their babyish roundness. Whispers and curious glances followed him like a persistent shadow. Professor Grubbly-Plank gave him one long, assessing look but said nothing, her expression one of professional curiosity.
Elian tugged at the sleeves of his new robes, feeling a weariness settle over him. He didn't mind being different, but being a spectacle was exhausting.
"Into the boats, four to a vessel! No pushing!" Grubbly-Plank directed.
Elian ended up sharing a small, lantern-lit boat with three wide-eyed boys who kept stealing glances at him but were too shy to speak. As the fleet of little boats set off across the smooth, black water, a hush fell over the children.
Then, as they rounded a bend, the silence shattered into gasps.
Hogwarts.
It rose from the cliffs on the far shore, a breathtaking mountain of ancient stone, turrets, and towers, its windows blazing with warm, golden light that fractured across the dark surface of the lake. It was vast, magical, and impossibly real. Elian's breath caught in his throat. No description, no film scene, could capture the sheer, majestic presence of the castle. It hummed with age and power.
"Wow…" breathed one of the boys in his boat, voicing the sentiment of everyone.
They glided across the lake, the castle growing larger and more imposing until it filled the entire sky. Soon, they were clambering out onto a pebbly shore beneath a vast, covered entrance. Professor Grubbly-Plank led them up a flight of stone steps, through a massive oak door, and into a vast, torch-lit entrance hall big enough to house his old London street.
Here, the professor vanished with a nod. The first-years huddled together, their excited chatter echoing off the high ceiling.
Then, a new figure appeared at the top of a marble staircase. She was tall and stern, dressed in emerald-green robes, a pointed hat perched perfectly on her tightly knotted bun. Her gaze swept over the group with the precision of a laser, and the chatter died instantly.
Professor Minerva McGonagall.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her voice crisp and clear. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but first, you will be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be like your family. Triumphs will earn you points. Any rule-breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup."
Her sharp eyes travelled over the sea of young faces and, inevitably, came to rest on Elian. Her gaze lingered, thoughtful and intense. He met it steadily, though a knot of nervousness tightened in his stomach. Why is she looking at me like that? He had a feeling it wasn't about his age, but about the turbulent times he had arrived in.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." She paused, her eyes still on him for a fleeting second longer. "I shall return when we are ready for you."
She turned and left, the first-years immediately erupting into frantic whispers and attempts to smooth their hair and robes. Elian simply stood still, listening to the distant rumble of hundreds of voices from the Great Hall beyond the closed doors.
After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Professor McGonagall returned. "Form a line," she instructed, "and follow me."
The massive doors swung open silently.
A wave of sound, light, and warmth hit them. The Great Hall was, if possible, even more magnificent than the exterior. Thousands and thousands of candles floated in mid-air over four long, crowded house tables. The ceiling, enchanted to look like the night sky, was a velvety black scattered with brilliant stars. At the top of the hall was a long staff table where the teachers sat.
Every eye in the hall turned towards them as they entered. Elian felt the weight of hundreds of curious stares.
(End of Chapter)
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