Chapter 107: The Sorting and the New Teacher
I sat at the staff table and let my gaze drift over the students filling their places. For the first time this year, I felt I genuinely deserved to be called a teacher. Flitwick had been unambiguous: I had reached the rank of Master, even if it was the kind that properly trained masters quietly laughed at. Even so, it was a substantial level of skill and knowledge compared to most wizards, because most wizards never climbed even that high.
I wouldn't say masters were rare; even a Master of the lesser kind earned a very decent living and was skilled enough to expect a long life. But compared to the general run of wizards, there were still very few of us.
The students who had returned for their second year and above were already in their seats, and lively conversation was filling the hall. The children hadn't said everything they wanted to on the train, and now they were chattering away with vigorous hand gestures, not only with their own tables but leaning over their benches to carry on conversations across house boundaries.
"It really is a pleasure to see students so delighted to be back."
"Quite. The first of September is perhaps the finest day of the year: children are always in such high spirits. Only the other holidays can compete with it."
The Headmaster said it in a contented voice.
At that point McGonagall rejoined us.
"The first-years, and the transfer students, are ready. Shall we begin the Sorting?"
"Yes, Minerva."
Dumbledore gave his deputy a nod.
"Silence in the hall!"
McGonagall's voice carried to every corner of the Great Hall.
"The first-years are about to enter, along with a number of transfer students. I ask for your full attention."
With that, McGonagall left us, returning a couple of minutes later at the head of the students. Among them it was easy to spot Fleur and Gabrielle, who stood noticeably taller than the first-years. Understandably: Fleur had been placed in the fifth year, and Gabrielle in the second.
"Headmaster, the first-years are ready for the Sorting."
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall. You may proceed."
McGonagall brought out the stool and the Sorting Hat and placed them in their familiar position.
"Hmm? What? Oh..."
The Hat gave a small shudder, lifted its brim, and began to shift about, giving the impression that it was surveying the room. Its folds rearranged themselves into the shape of an extremely wrinkled face, with even the eyes recognizable.
"Honored Hat, it is time for the Sorting."
"Already? Hmm... I haven't even had a proper chance to rehearse my song."
"Oh, come now, your songs are always wonderful."
"Hrmph... *ahem*..."
And the Hat sang. Its song was, as ever, not especially musical, but entirely sincere. It spoke of the four houses and of friendship, and invited every new student to become part of Hogwarts' large and welcoming family. We were all smiling.
"When I call your name, you will come forward, sit on the stool, and I shall place the Hat on your head, and it will Sort you into your house! I should like to begin with a student who has transferred to us from Beauxbatons and will be joining the second year: Gabrielle Delacour!"
The little one trotted up to the stool and sat down, straightening her robes. The Hat settled over her head and the hall fell quiet.
***
***From the point of view of Gabrielle Delacour***
"Hmm."
The Hat gave a thoughtful hum and shifted about a little.
"Ravenclaw, please."
"...interesting, most interesting. But are you certain?"
Its voice was very quiet, inside my head, and tinged with faint surprise at my request.
"Yes."
"Quite certain? Hufflepuff would suit you rather better."
"I'm sure. My brother is there!"
"Hmm... yes, I see that. You two are close. But might you not reconsider? You would find new friends there as well."
"Friends are wonderful, of course."
I let my gaze move over the tables of each house, which were laid out rather nicely from where I was sitting.
"But I can make friends there even from Ravenclaw, can't I?"
"Of course you can."
The Hat answered, and I had the sense it was smiling.
"Then my answer stays the same. Especially since I've already become friends with quite a few Ravenclaws over the summer. I don't want to end up in a different house from my friends."
"Quite so. In that case... RAVENCLAW!"
The Hat bellowed it, and I was very nearly deafened, but the wave of applause that swept over the hall made it plain the Hat hadn't been trying to hurt me; it had only been heralding that welcome.
The moment the Hat was lifted from my head, I made straight for the Ravenclaw table and sat among my friends. Only then did I allow myself to glance towards my brother, who gave me the faintest of nods.
***End***
***
"And now, the second transfer student from Beauxbatons, who joins us in fifth year, Fleur Delacour!"
McGonagall's voice carried an added note of ceremony.
"Tell me, Mentor, am I imagining things, or does the professor's tone practically say: eat your hearts out, everyone, we are the finest school in the world?"
"Hmm... there was something of the sort in Minerva's voice, I must say."
Flitwick chuckled quietly, and several of the other teachers laughed as well, which indicated the joke had landed.
Meanwhile Fleur had already reached the stool.
***
***From the point of view of Fleur Delacour***
Three years ago, if anyone had told me I would fall in love with a boy younger than me and transfer from Beauxbatons to this drafty castle for his sake, and that my family, frightened of the coming Convergence of worlds, would relocate to Britain, I would simply have laughed at the idiot. And yet here I am.
"Well, well. Another Veela?"
The Hat's voice sounded in my head.
"Yes."
"You and your sister both exercise remarkable control over your gift. I suspect that even without the artifacts you use to block its outward manifestation, you could remain in the Great Hall for several hours without incident."
"Thank you."
"Oh, don't thank me, I'm merely an old hat, and I only say what I see."
"And what do you see?"
"That you would thrive in Slytherin. It prizes ambitious individuals, and although you conceal those qualities in yourself, they do push through..."
"That is true."
"So you agree with me?"
"I agree with your assessment. I don't agree with the house you're proposing to put me in."
"What, you want Ravenclaw, like your sister?"
A mournful sigh seemed to drift through the Hat's voice.
"As a faithful wife-to-be, I should be beside my intended."
"Well..."
"Are you doubting my fidelity?"
I frowned slightly, and a vivid image passed through my mind: the Hat going up in Veela fire if it answered yes.
"Please don't threaten me, young lady. Destroying me has become rather more difficult of late, even with Fiendfyre. Not impossible, mind you. But it would take some effort. As for your question, no, I have no doubt of your fidelity, nor of your desire to become something. Your future husband, when I saw him, presented himself primarily as a scholar. He is not without ambition, without the desire to hold a proper place in society, or to stand above others, but intrigue holds no interest for him. What drives him, before anything else, is the magic itself: a wizard who seeks to understand the world. You, on the other hand..."
The Hat's voice carried neither judgement nor approval, only a statement of fact.
"You are driven, first of all, by the desire to claim your place in the sun."
"Are you saying I'm not right for him?"
I was frightened to ask, but if not an artifact made by the Founders themselves, then who could?
"Why would I say that? Whether you are right for one another is for no one to decide but the two of you. I merely observed that your priorities in life are different. But is that a bad thing, particularly if you support your husband and he supports you?"
"No."
"There you are."
The Hat gave a quiet snort somewhere in the back of my mind.
"Now, I believe it is time to announce my decision. But I must ask one final time. Are you certain?"
"Yes. I want Ravenclaw."
"Then so it shall be. RAVENCLAW!"
The last word rang out, and when the Hat was lifted, I walked toward the table where I would be sitting for the next few years. Provided nothing goes wrong.
"Sister, are you all right?"
Gabrielle nudged me with her elbow as I sat down beside her.
"Fine."
"Mm."
She nodded, but I could see clearly that she had spotted my faint bewilderment. She knows me far too well.
***End***
***
"It seems your fiancée will be joining our house, as will her sister."
Flitwick smiled slightly.
"It's predictable."
"Predictable? I'd have expected you to say something like: given their characters, it's hardly surprising."
I glanced briefly at my mentor.
"Only a foolish person would say that; character is far too complex a concept. I thought it quite possible that Gabrielle's and Fleur's characters could have placed them in other houses. However, the esteemed Hat never sends a student to a house they are unwilling to enter."
"You mean they simply don't want anything to do with our houses?"
Professor Sprout frowned slightly.
"No."
I shook my head.
"I only mean that over the summer they spent in Britain, they made far too many friends from Ravenclaw. It will simply be more comfortable for them there, particularly at first. If they had been enrolled at Hogwarts and the Sorting held half a year later, with time to attend lessons alongside all the houses, they might well have formed ties elsewhere too, and then the Hat's choice would have been far less predictable to me."
"By rights, Slytherin should be weeping over you, apprentice."
Flitwick laughed quietly.
"No."
I shook my head, casting a brief glance at Snape, with whom I had never really managed to form any kind of relationship. Not that I had tried particularly hard. I simply didn't have much interest in the man, right up until he was failing to teach adequately. And as far as I knew, he did keep himself in check, at least with students who had not opted for advanced Potions.
The Sorting continued. We watched with considerable pleasure as the first-years trembled when their names were called, walked stiffly to the stool on legs that didn't quite want to cooperate, and then sprinted to their house tables with expressions of pure relief.
"Dear students!"
When the Sorting was complete, Dumbledore rose to speak.
"Before we begin the feast, I have several announcements to make, and I shall begin with the least pressing. This year we once again have a new teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts — and that teacher is Remus Lupin!"
The hall erupted in applause. Through the great doors — the same ones through which the first-years had entered moments ago — came a man who looked rather disheveled, but walked with quiet confidence.
"I should warn you all in advance — please do not try our new teacher's patience too severely. He is a werewolf—"
The children froze mid-applause. Every face in the hall turned towards the new teacher in shock and disbelief. Well — nearly every face. Those who had spent time in my district, or taken up residence there, knew enough about werewolves to react with relative composure.
"—and in the days following the full moon, he may be somewhat more irritable than usual."
"Headmaster—"
Lupin smiled, a little embarrassed.
"—please don't alarm the students. As you can see, I am wearing an artifact around my neck. This artifact will paralyze me even after transformation, preventing me from attacking anyone. I also have a substantial supply of Wolfsbane Potion prepared, which allows werewolves to retain their minds even through the change — so if you don't deliberately provoke me in the days immediately before or after the full moon, everything will be perfectly fine."
"I would like to enquire who brewed the potion."
The question came from Snape, who was visibly less than delighted at the sight of his old schoolfellow.
"Oh, I couldn't say—"
Lupin gave a small shrug.
"The Headmaster would know; I was not even aware the artifact existed until—"
He touched the thing at his throat.
"The artifact and the Wolfsbane Potion were provided by Professor Black. They have been successfully used in his district, and if I'm not mistaken, there has not been a single incident involving a werewolf attacking a resident there?"
Dumbledore looked towards me with a question.
"Not one."
I shook my head.
"Though that is also because werewolves are, whatever one's feelings on the matter, people first — people who were cursed — and dangerous creatures only second. When they find a place where they can live with dignity, work, and be paid a fair wage for it, they take it upon themselves to ensure nothing occurs that might call their right to remain into question. As for the potions — I ordered them from the Guild. All werewolves residing in my district receive them at effectively no cost, so commissioning one extra crate—"
I shrugged.
"Effectively no cost?"
Snape's eyebrow rose.
The price of the potion was deducted from the werewolves' wages, but the pay was decent enough that they barely noticed.
"Well then, Professor, anything you'd like to add?"
"I think I'll save it."
Lupin smiled.
"You'll hear from me in class."
With that he made his way to an empty seat and settled in carefully. It was plain he was not entirely at ease. The news that a place now existed where werewolves could live freely had clearly knocked the ground out from under him in a way he hadn't yet resolved.
------------------------------------------
Chapters on Patreon progress: Currently at;
1. Harry Potter: Satan? Nah, Just My Family Crest = CHAPTER 376
2.Harry Potter: Beyond Good and Evil in the Wizarding World = CHAPTER 391
3.Harry Potter: Reborn as Draco Black = CHAPTER 196
support me on Patreon for instant access to the 120+ advance chapters: patreon.com/redofic