Welcoming Feast pt.2

Hagrid leads me to a door joining the classroom. As his hand moves to the doorknob, he stops, pausing.

"Ye know, I was in the same boat as you. Yer gonna do jus' fine. Dumbledore's A great man, an'" he turns his head to look at me over his shoulder with a smile that reaches his eyes. "Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are."

With those confusing statements, He pushes the door open as he steps aside, allowing me to funnel into a small plain office with two chairs in front of a desk. My mouth drops as I look to see headmaster Dumbledore sitting behind the desk, bright purple robes and all, sucking on a lollipop. His deep blue eyes spark with a confusing mix of emotions too complex to understand. His mouth curves and the hand stroking his beard stops as I enter the room.

Why does he want to meet me? Did I do something wrong? Am I going to be expelled! I haven't even started the first day and I'm already being kicked out. Of course this- my thoughts get cut off as an amused chuckle fills the room.

"Don't worry Catlyn, you're not in any trouble. Sit down," he tells me, still half chuckling as he gestures to one of the seats.

'If you don't mind me asking, why did you call me here?' I ask, taking him up on his offer.

*want a loli?* He signs, causing me to jump. Does he know BSL? Slowly, I ease into a seat and snap a blood-flavored lollipop from his hand. For a few seconds, we sat in silence as Dumbledore focused on his loli.

The last time I met Dumbledore was when he... Suddenly I'm back, back into that damp room, those cold grey bricks under me, those green candles illuminating my blood-soaked arms.

"Ahem," the grunt from Dumbledore slaps me back to reality. *For your condition, the house elves will have blood for you. Your Head of House will give you the directions to the kitchen. If you have any problems don't hesitate to go to any of your teachers, they're here for you.*

The words play in my head. No, they aren't. They're here for the real boys and girls studying to become fully-fledged witches and wizards. I only nod as I smooth the hem of my skirt and get out of my chair. With a quick bow, I leave to join back with the other first years.

The door opening echoes through the room as the murmurs of the other students silence with my entry. Their eyes pelt daggers into me as I quickly shuffle to hide behind Anne's back.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Potter asks Weasley, breaking the silence and cutting the tension like a knife.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Anne looks at me with pleading eyes stricken with fear. I only shake my head in response as a sigh of relief escapes her mouth.

"Then how are we sorted?" Anne whispers.

'A hat,' I write to her as her eyes narrow.

"How can-" her question gets cut off as gasps fill the room. Following Anne's eyes, I look to see around twenty ghosts floating through the wall. Their skin is only slightly paler than mine but has the added benefit of being slightly transparent.

My eyes lock with a male ghost only for it to scowl. Why in the absolute fuck, do ghosts think they're better than vampires! I mean, they're both bad but at least most vampires don't choose to become undead.

"Move along now," a sharp voice interrupts the scowling match, "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." With the order from Professor McGonagall, the ghosts float through the wall opposing the original.

"Now, form a line," Within a snap, the cluster of kids turns into a neat and orderly line, "and follow me." Gravel churns in my stomach as my legs shakily carry me along with the first years out of the chamber, across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

The millions of descriptions of this magnificent hall seared into my head doesn't even do this place an ounce of justice. Beautiful candles float over the four long tables holding the rest of the students. At the end of the hall is a horizontal table with all of the teachers. On the tables sat goblets and plates of gold shining from the bright candles. The line shuffles forward until all the first years make it into the hall.

Peering around the giants that is Weasley, I finally get a good look at the teachers' table. Professor McGonagall pulled out a stool right in front of the table and put an old, dusty-looking, witches hat on it. The majesty of the hall wears off and the stares of the hundreds of people dawn on me. I try to ignore the pit forming in my stomach as I look up to find something I would kick myself if I didn't find; the ceiling is the night sky.

That's right, is. Not had a view of it or it had a skylight, I mean an actual uninterrupted starry night sky. I knew that it was bewitched but knowing and seeing it in real life was a whole another thing. The few seconds of silence would be unbearable if the students' attention were still on me and not on the hat. With a twitch, the hat opened a mouth like a hole right above the brim and started to sing.

Applause blasts through the room as the hat takes a bow to each table. I don't join in as I know no matter how hard I try, I could never add to the cheer.

"You weren't messing with me!" Anne giggles as reality sets in; I'll have to try it on. Well, I knew that but I didn't realize it would be right in front of the entire school! Air seems to escape me as I imagine all those eyes inspecting every inch of me, that hat invading the corners of my mind.

"Wish me luck!" Anne waves goodbye, shaking me out of my thoughts as she runs up to the stool. I chuckle to myself slightly as she rips it out of Professor McGonagall's hands. She's not even on the stool yet before the hat's mouth rips open again.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat screams as the kids in yellow accented robes on the right break out into applause. A bright smile screams on Anne's face as she takes off the hat and runs off to sit with her brother.

To pass the time I start trying to guess which house people will get, I was right about that Hermione girl. I start getting pretty good at guessing until;

"Ollivander, Catlyn!" As I move to the hat, whispers so numerous and quite only a vampire could make them out hiss like fire:

"Isn't that the creepy girl from the wand shop?"

"She's an Ollivander?"

"I hope she isn't in our house."

"Why even sort her? She's obviously a Slytherin."

I pretend to ignore them as I approach the hat. Turning to face the students, my creep, cold red eyes gloss over the crowd, silencing the fire as the hat completely envelops my head.

"Wow, you're not making my job easy are you?" A small voice in my ear says, causing me to jump a little. Sorry, I think, not knowing how to respond to it. Should I use BSL? Would a hat even know sign language? Can hat's read? Even if it could it would look pretty weird showing my notebook to a hat.

"It's fine, I can hear your thoughts. Hmm, Gryffindor fits you the least. Same with Slytherin, you despise yourself for your own power let alone want more. Better be- RAVENCLAW!" Rather than the applause and cheer greeting me as I take off that hat, only silence rears its ugly head as I look to see only distance, annoyance, and fear coming from my House.

Handing the Sorting Hat back to Professor McGonagall I look to see more pity come from her face. Without a second thought, I head to the edge of the table only to have the students treat me like the plague; immediately, the other Ravenclaws scoot away from me.

Looking back at the teachers I find a mix of pity, anger, and satisfaction. It becomes entirely clear to me that all the teachers were informed of my, how did Dumbledore put it? Ah yes, "condition".

"Potter, Harry!" Professor McGonagall shouts last, igniting another fire of whispers. The only thing different this time is that the words didn't have the sharp edge mine did. It was as if Merlin himself walked in. Slowly Potter makes his way up to the stool and is given the hat. With only a few seconds the hat's mouth rips open.

"Gryffindor!"

The entire school, even the Slytherins, erupt with cheer. The Ravenclaws less so.

"We got Potter! We got Potter!" Two Gryffindor's yell as Potter joins their table. This is how it should be, heroes praised and monsters ostracized. The rest of the sorting and the feast goes smoothly as I sit and eat in the social hole that my house made for me. The hall falls silent as Dumbledore gets to his feet again.

"Ahem - Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." His eyes flashed to the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

That put a small damper on the excitement that's been fueling me through the looks, the whispers, the cautious tiptoeing of the people that pretend to care; but I shake it off.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch." I merely roll my eyes at the mention of that barbaric sport.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." A few stifled laughs pepper the hall but many, like me, could tell by the gleam in his eyes how serious he is.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" his voice rang out like pop music with a face lit up like a Christmas tree. Looking at the rest of the teachers, it appeared that the sentiment was not shared.

With a flick of the wand, a golden ribbon flew out of the tip that wrote itself into words. Thousands of off-key, out-of-tune voices sang the letters that sparkled in the air. I simply plug my over-sensitive ears until the overwhelming voices die down.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes, "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

As the Prefect's gather their House I can feel the pit in my stomach growing as my teeth itch. Control yourself. Calm, calm. Just hold out until we get to the dorms. As the rest of my house leaves their seats, I stay seated for a second to get some distance from the rest of the first years as we leave the hall.

"Make sure to follow closely, for the way to the tower is a bit tricky," The blond snobby Prefect boy leading us yelled as we made our way down a set of marble stairs. I could feel my brain go into hyperdrive as I tried to memorize all the turns, hallways, weird codes, witch painting to flatter, and a final spiral staircase to arrive at a simple, for Hogwarts, that is, wooden door with no knob, or keyhole, just an iron eagle-shaped door knocker.

"Are any of you bad at riddles?" The Prefect boy asked, turning to us. A few people raise their hands, along with a short, well not my level of shortness but still, Asian girl who seemed to tremble at the mere mention of riddles.

"Well then make sure not to come to the common room alone," With that, the Prefect knocks three times on the door.

"What's so fragile that saying its name breaks it?" The eagle knocker booms, causing a few of the first years to jump.

"Why'd you have to make it a hard one Earl, I got first years," The Prefect tiredly wines only to get a snort in response. Fatigue beaten back, I set my mind on the riddle, knowing full well that Earl gave a hard one on purpose. Fragile, something being broken. It can be broken by its own name, specifically saying it. Saying... Oh, that's clever.

Hunger returning, I start taping my foot as the Prefect paces. Come on, it's not even that hard! Looking around I can tell a few have solved the riddle but just don't want to tell him. Patients wearing thin, I start pushing my way through the crowd to get to the front.

"What do we have here?" Earl asks as I start writing the answer down in my notepad.

"What are you doing?" The Prefect growls, only earning a glare out of the corner of my eye as I hold the answer up to Earl.

"Ahh, at least one of the recruits has some brains, Silence, correct!" Earl announces as Earl opens its mouth, expanding until even Hagrid could walk through it. For a moment the group acts as the answer as we just stand there.

"Beginners luck," the Prefect rolls his eyes, pushing past me. I hug the wall as the rest of the group proceeds to do the same. Through the door, we're met with a massive cylindrical room with bookshelves almost everywhere and a few huge arched windows hung with fine blue and copper silk. Where there wasn't a window on the wall, a bookshelf would be in its place. A midnight blue carpet hugged the dark oak floor which perfectly contrasted the white marble brick the tower seemed to be made of. Pillars of the same marble hold up a landing so big I don't know if I should even call it one.

The tall ceiling acted with similar properties as the one in the great hall. Glowing stairs peppered in the carpet as well as the ceiling illuminated the room. Dotted around the room are armchairs, tables, couches, globes, even a grand piano as well as some art easels.

Ignoring the orders from the Prefect, I opt to browse the bookshelves as I wait to watch how students get to their dorms, from what I've read it's pretty cool. The group walks directly across the room to a little inlet of books with a marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw standing in its center, reaching out as if offering a hug.

"Girls, you first. Pull down the right arm," Boy Perfect instructs as a black-haired girl obeys. A rumble fills the air as the bookshelf to the right of the statue slides up, revealing a door. The boys do the same except on the opposite side.

Once the entrance to the dorms clears I race to the statue and pull the right arm down, revealing a door behind it. I open the door only to be greeted by a small bathroom-sized room with no exit. Brow furrowed, I walk into the room and close the door. I wait for a second for some weird shaking, my insides coming out, anything, but nothing.

I must not have done it right, I think as I exit the door only to be greeted by a soft-lit hallway of doors. Each door has a blue plaque with a silver border that holds a number from one to seven, probably year, and four names. I have got to ask Professor Flitwick how that works.

Walking down the hall, my teeth start to itch behind my mask. I really need to get to a blood pack. Walking to the furthest door, I notice my trunks shoved off to the side. Getting closer I notice something different about them, identical red ink splattered around a bold word, FREAK.

Holding back my hunger, anger, acceptance, tears, I hold my head up high as I carry my newly decorated trunks out of the hallway, and into the vanishing room. Sulking through the Common room, I move to the second level to find more books and desks. Searching, I find a couch in a dark corner and, after feasting on a blood pack, sink into it. Stumbling out of my uniform and pulling on my blue pajamas, I quickly switch out my masks as I let my red eyelids fall heavy, trading one nightmare for another.

**Filius Flitwick**

The crying of burning flesh greets me as I step through Earl's mouth. My head snaps up as I look for where it's coming from. Searching the room, my eyes lock onto a small girl with white hair restlessly curled on a couch in a corner. Slowly, I move to her. A pit forms in my stomach as the putrid burning smell fills my nostrils. Her uniform is still on, but unbuttoned slightly, revealing a silencing charm singed into her.

So this is her, the one everyone didn't want in their house. The child said to cause the next war. The (supposed) heir to a cult of dark wizards, kicked out of her room for being one of the very things her family hates. Moving around the couch, I look to see her graffitied trunk.

"I need to talk to Dumbledore," I growl to myself as I wave my hand, sending a blanket to my free hand. Cautiously, I spread the blanket over her. With all my knowledge, my lightning-quick reflexes, soundless chanting, wandless magic, I can't even help a little girl's voice be heard, protect her? What good is magic if it can cause so much pain and you can't even fix it?