Pages from the Turning Times Book I: The Cycle of the Serpent

CHAPTER 3. SORTED. UNITED. DIVIDED.

It used to be a well-mannered hat.

But the ails of old age were not confined in the realm of mortals, it seemed, for the Sorting Hat, one of Hogwarts´ most revered treasures, have developed a nasty temper as of late. For many years, the Sorting Hat had scrawled the first lines by which a wizard´s personal history was written. By its deformed mouth, forced out of a tear on its brim, were said the words that would welcome the students to Hogwarts as well as define their destinies to come.

It was named the Sorting Hat because it did just that. It sorted the novices of magic into the four distinct houses that comprised Hogwarts. The noble house of Gryffindor, named after Godric Gryffindor, the hat´s original owner, whose bravery and nobility were well known across the land. The honorable house of Hufflepuff, named after Helga Hufflepuff, whose sense of loyalty and perseverance were renowned and admired throughout the ages. The respected house of Ravenclaw, named after Rowena Ravenclaw, whose discipline and thirst for knowledge were of no equal. And the esteemed house of Slytherin, named after Salazar Slytherin, whose ambitious and cunning ways have become the fabrics of great tales.

Every year, on the first day of September, the Sorting Hat is called on to decide the respective houses where the new students rightfully belong. It used to look forward to this day, the only day the entire year when it was unearthed to fulfill a task most important. But as of recent years, the Sorting Hat showed signs of ill temperament. It was beginning to hate the function for which it was bewitched. A laborious task for something ages old, it thought, whatever happened to caring for the elderly? And then there was the matter of the new Head Master whom the Sorting Hat so despised...

So, gone were the days when it would sing the grandest songs of legendary yore and the venerated primacy of its deeds. Instead, it would now utter unnecessary comments and think aloud what it thought of the students who were wearing on their head its patch-filled, tattered and untidy body. This made the work more enjoyable for the Sorting Hat these days, a novel twist to a routine that had become boring after more than a thousand years.

From where it sat in an old, wooden three-legged stool it heard the Great Hall´s doors as they opened. Upper year students began to fill up the room, sitting on their respective houses´ long tables. Ahhhhhh, the time has come, it thought. In a matter of minutes, the new students would enter to be sorted.

But the Sorting Hat felt something strange this day, a surprising chill, which caressed its body of worn leather. There have been countless times when a breeze of cold air would manage its way into the Great Hall and loiter in its domain, but this particular chill was different. It was the first one it ever felt, when the Sorting Hat was never bewitched with the sense of feeling.

ooo000ooo

After the relatively peaceful boat ride, marred only by the appearance of a merfolk who decided to pop out its curious head from the waters, which some of the students found quite harrowing, the first year children arrived at the grounds of the fabled School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most of them were mesmerized by the sheer size and sense of mysticism and majesty that Hogwarts presented. Small murmurs were unavoidable, as the children exchanged eager whispers of fascination and awe.

And walking side by side were Gryffindor and Ontario, an odd pair, what with the latter´s lanky frame. They looked at the castle before them with wide, wide eyes, overwhelmed by its splendor and the fact that they, young as they were, would be part of its tradition.

"Hogwarts at last," Gryffindor said, trying to solicit a similar enthusiasm from the generally reserved Ontario.

But Ontario did not reply. He was staring at the direction that yanked most of the students´ attention. Disturbed by Ontario´s silence, Gryffindor looked at him only to be directed to where the latter´s eyes, as well as the eyes of almost all the children, were now fixated.

Beside the giant door stood a cloaked young boy, with his wounded and dirty feet, as well as his face from the nose down, the only parts of his body exposed. He had his head bowed, indifferent of the excitement exuded by the gathered throng just a few seconds ago. There was something eerily peculiar about the boy, which none of the students can seem to figure out, like a tingle on one´s spine for no apparent reason.

There was a minute of silence, as the students just looked at the boy. Perhaps they feared to speak, or maybe, they just didn´t know what to say. Suddenly, a young lad with wavy locks, and who was relatively shorter than most of the students, broke out from the crowd to break the uncomfortable stillness.

"Make way, make way," he proudly shouted while parting the huddle. "Leave this for the big boy to handle," he added.

He made his way to the hooded young boy while putting up an act of dusting off his robe. When he reached but a few steps near the strange child, he extended his hand and introduced himself. "Hi. My name is Johnny Lockhart," he said with an ostentatious smile.

The dirty young boy neither said a word nor made the slightest gesture.

Johnny Lockhart, puzzled by the boy´s actions, or non-action, and a bit embarrassed by his unsolicited deed´s failure to deliver, thought of another approach. A series of questions perhaps, he concluded, still with his garish smile, as he stroke his wavy hair of golden hue.

"Maybe you don´t speak English," he loudly assumed. "Okay, let´s try this again. Wot ees yowr ne-eym?" a question he delivered slowly, trying to communicate with the pauperized boy.

The strange boy remained still.

"Hmmmm," Johnny sighed, pausing to contemplate on what to do next. Finally, he let out a tacky laughter. "Oh don´t tell me, don´t tell me please...you´re the grandson of the legendary Harry Potter who is rumored to be attending Hogwarts with us..." he said, as he continued his laughter which triggered the same from some of the crowd behind him.

Gryffindor Solomon´s eyes widened upon hearing Lockhart´s comment. Harry Potter´s grandson? Attending Hogwarts? Gryffindor did not know whether he should feel excited or threatened. He wanted to look forward to meeting a legend´s bloodline in person. But then, such would be a monkey wrench thrown at his plan to be the best student in the house of Gryffindor. Harry Potter, hailed by many as the hero of the Time of the Turning, was probably the most renowned product of Hogwarts, and the most esteemed alumnus of Godric Grffindor´s prominent house. Surely his kin would possess the same qualities, Solomon uttered in silence.

"Show us the scar of legends," Johnny Lockhart mockingly commanded amid the continuing laughter, "show us your family treasure."

But Johnny´s antics were broken by the sound of hooves slowly striking the ground from the forest in the west. Soon, all of the students´ attention shifted from the scrawny, unclean boy to the source of the heavy steps approaching.

At first they weren´t able to figure out if it was a horse or a big goat. A horse had better posture, some said. But a goat surely doesn´t have the distinct majesty of the nearing figure´s regal stride. Quite a few claimed he was a man riding a horse, but others argued that its size belied that claim.

Then the figure revealed itself in full visibility, and every one of the students took a step backwards in shock. It was neither a horse nor a giant goat nor a man riding a horse. It was not even a man for that matter. His upper body was that of an unclothed young man, in his teenaged years if one was allowed to roughly estimate, but his physique was molded like a perfect sculpture that brought doubts as to his real age. He had long, messy black hair, and pointed ears that looked Elven in origin. He could´ve passed off as an elf of mythical recollection, but he had two small horns and a lower body which were clearly that of a horse with the color of blackest night! His eyes looked intense, seeming to know neither joy nor sadness, just restrained passion.

He slowly proceeded to where Johnny and the strange boy were, as the students remained shocked. Johnny was paralyzed where he stood, fear gripped every part of his brittle body.

"Ah...errrr....," he forced himself to say with an equally compelled smile trying to pretend courage, "hi there. You must be a Centaur!"

The Centaur just looked at him with his fiery eyes. He thereafter made a grunting sound and strode his way inside the castle, to everyone´s relief.

Johnny Lockhart followed the Centaur with a stare as the latter vanished in the shadows inside the school. Liberated from his fear, Johnny looked at the strange boy who was still standing where he was, as motionless as before, unaffected by everything that transpired. Lockhart then looked at the students who were still reeling from the encounter with the half-man, half-beast.

"Now that´s what we call a mane event," Johnny kidded, as he tried to save face.

ooo000ooo

A train flight across turbulent skies. A boat ride through perilous waters. A strange boy. A Centaur.

Rebecca Weasley was having an unforgettable day, that she needed no further complications. But as it was, she had to endure a snotty lad´s temperaments only to realize that he was the legendary Harry Potter´s grandson. Worse, she had the most embarrassing re-acquaintance with an immodest boy whose goal in life was to perpetually ridicule her. And now, as she was marching along the hallway leading to the Great Hall, passing by the framed paintings of headmasters and professors of Hogwarts´ venerated past, she had to live with the company of imprudent Henry who was sticking to her like a lichen. She tried to accelerate her pace, but Henry just kept keeping up with her, so she gave up on such idea.

"All I am asking for is your name," said Henry, still with a smile that never ceased since their reunion, much to Rebecca´s chagrin.

"If that will make you shut up and leave me in peace, then my name is Rebecca," she finally answered.

"Alright. Thanks Rebecca," the boy said. "But I wouldn´t be surprised if you answer by another name during the Sorting Ceremony," Henry concluded with what Rebecca thought was a sneer.

"You are so infuriating," Rebecca retorted. "Didn´t it ever occur to you that I do not want to associate myself with the likes of you?"

Before Henry could utter a reply, the marching students came to a halt. They met a dignified lady who was regally dressed. Many of the children inferred that she was a professor, hence, they gave her their warmest smiles as they awaited what she was going to say. Rebecca had the brightest smile of the lot, as she considered the professor´s presence a rescue from Henry´s shenanigans.

"Good afternoon, first year students," the lady spoke. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Some of the students wanted to clap their hands, as they felt proud with the words the professor said. They were in Hogwarts, and they were well on their way to becoming the wizards and witches of their dreams.

"I am Professor Emerashire," the lady continued. "I am the Deputy Headmistress, and the head of Gryffindor House," she added with a warm smile.

Her shiny emerald green robe was a sight to behold. It captivated Rebecca, so much so that she suddenly decided the house where she wanted to belong, an idea she didn´t give much thought to before. She wanted to be in Gryffindor, under the guidance of the charismatic lady who welcomed them to the school. In Gryffindor, where all of the Weasleys before her were sorted, with the exception of her Uncle Vernard, and where most of the heroes of the Time of the Turning hailed from. This brought a hopeful smile on Rebecca´s face, but such did not last. She realized that wherever she´ll get sorted, it would be acceptable, as long as it´s not with the pesky young Henry who was following her all the time.

"First year students, form two lines please," Professor Emerashire requested with a kind yet commanding voice. "Follow me," she added, "it is time for the Sorting Ceremony."

ooo000ooo

Gryffindor Solomon has never seen a more magnificent sight his entire life.

Rows of long tables filled with upper year students welcomed them with beaming smiles as candles burning with bluish flame floated over their heads. It was named the Grand Hall because it was surely large and regal. Long curtains of blue, green, yellow and silver fell from the ceiling to kiss the grass as its silky body caressed the walls. The first year students were walking down an aisle of red carpet, as they followed Professor Emerashire towards the elevated tables in front of the hall, where the faculties were seemingly situated.

"The new Headmaster would like to welcome you personally," professor Emerashire said, "but as of the moment, he is polishing up some business with the Ministry, but he will join us shortly," she assured.

Gryffindor has heard about the news of a new Headmaster who would take over the reign of Hogwarts that very school year. His name has been kept in secrecy among the wizarding community, for fear of possible Integrationalist attacks against him while he was away from Hogwarts. Selecting a Headmaster for the school was not an easy task. Wizards of proven probity, intelligence, commitment and valor were required for anyone who sought the post. The qualifications are more stringent than in selecting a member of the Ministry.

Who could be the new Headmaster,

Gryffindor asked silently, a thought that completely took a backseat when Professor Emerashire spoke again.

"First year students, you will now be sorted," she said, as she took a dirty looking old hat from a three legged stool. "Your house will be your family while you're at Hogwarts. You will be grouped under one tower and you will attend class together. You will try to win as many house points as you can. At the end of the year, the house with the most house points shall win the House Cup."

"As I call your name, please step forward and sit on this chair," she continued. "The Sorting Hat will be placed on your head and it will shout the house you belong to."

Oh! This is it,

Gryffindor thought. It was finally time to claim the fate that awaited him.

The Sorting Hat wiggled while in Emerashire´s care. The tear on its brim moved, and to the delight of the first year students, it started to sing...

Dreams by the fiery heavens and the night sky

Dreams carried by hope, with glee now flies

To Hogwarts, to Hogwarts, they cry, they cry

Oh dreams, from these children, do not shy

Should you be kings of mortal affairs, I ask?

Would you despise defeat, and crave to win?

Hear `ye, hear `ye, `tis be my solemn task

For I shall place thee in the house of Slytherin

Or should you try and try, persevere as you live

In the face of hopelessness, you still try with no bluff?

Then accept this decree to you I shall give

For you belong nowhere else but in Hufflepuff

Or will you proceed with the sharpness of the mind´s eye

To ponder upon the cure for even the minutest flaw?

Will you use your wit to conquer, maybe even lie?

Then I shall place you in the house of Ravenclaw

Or will you be courageous and daring, never to wither

Even against the stormy darkness beyond the shore?

Then with heroes you will be sorted, so come hither

And join the noble rank of brave Gryffindor

With the mention of the house of his choice, and the house for which he was named, Gryffindor Solomon let out a proud smile. The noble rank of brave Gryffindor. Even in between a few seconds, he allowed himself to daydream.

"Ontario Wood!" Professor Emerashire suddenly shouted.

Ontario looked dumbfounded as he heard his name. He paused for a second, trying to recall what needed to be done. Some whispers from those gathered around him made him recover his senses. He proceeded to the stool and sat on it. Professor Emerashire placed the sordid hat on his bald head.

The hat gave a grunt, and coughed a few times. "Emerashire, if you please, I would like to deliver the sorting through songs," it said. "I want to try something different this year, I hope a poor old hat´s wishes would be granted," it continued with a semblance of sorrow.

Professor Emerashire nodded with a smile.

Then the hat began to sing about Ontario in a booming voice for the whole hall to hear...

Sitting on his stool, this idiotic lad

Sitting on his head, I be

Oh you think you have it so bad

Wait, just wait, and you will see

Your forefather was a captain

Of broomstick soldiers and seekers alike

And when comes your time, what a shame

You can´t even ride a broom, you tyke!

You will cause so many troubles, yes you will

Not with your attitude, mind you

But with your clumsiness, unwanted and ill

Your house will surely sigh in rue

But wait, oh wait, there is much desire, I see

To prove yourself worthy, despite the things you muff

Then it should be done, and it shall be

From now on, you shall belong to the house of...HUFFLEPUFF!!!

Ontario breathed a sigh of relief, seemingly thankful that the embarrassment was done and over with. There was a collective laughter across the hall as he stood up, while a group of students were clapping, welcoming in unison the newest member of their house.

Gryffindor Solomon has heard tales about the sorting ceremony, but never in his life did he imagine that it would be as humiliating as Ontario´s. Nonetheless, he thought that a minute of humiliation would be nothing compared to the things he would learn at Hogwarts.

"Johnny Lockhart!" Emarashire shouted.

The students were now dreading the times when Professor Emerashire was about to call a name. But Lockhart just parted through the crowd with proud smoothness. Excuse me, excuse me, he loudly but charmingly said as he made way for himself amidst the multitude of first years. He fixed his robes in the most snobbish of manners as he ascended the stage. Thereafter, he shot a smile at the people that gathered in the hall, and then he took his seat. Emerashire placed the hat on his head. The crowd was silent. They knew his grandfather, Gilderoy Lockhart. They knew about his infamy, though his fall from grace was clouded in mystery. Gilderoy Lockhart´s story has gone down in history as either a tragedy or a joke, depending on who was telling it.

The Sorting Hat obliged the anxious silence by beginning its song...

Oh the stuff of history so rich

A grandfather of mythical lore

He be a famous, famous witch

Though his books were quite a bore

He slew trolls and befriended some Yetis

Or so said he, but should we believe?

For if lying has a god, then it would be he

Hence for St. Mungo´s he did leave

And what of his books, in bargain bins now?

When his fraudulent words make us all sore

But for you, my lad, a different tale fate had avowed

Take your seat now in the house of...GRYFFINDOR!!!

There were cries of shock from the Gryffindor table. They could not believe the ignominy that befell them, having to share a house with Gilderoy Lockhart´s grandson. The other tables laughed, with most of the mirthfulness coming from Slytherin.

Johnny Lockhart, a picture of pride, slowly stood up from the chair, and returned the hat to Emerashire with a wink.

"See you in class, oh dearest head of my house," he said with his patented exaggeration of his self-worth.

"Two points deducted from Gryffindor!" Emerashire shouted. "Students should never show disrespect to their teachers," she continued with a smile of her own.

The Gryffindor table sank their heads in despair as the laughter grew louder. Gryffindor Solomon was fuming mad, his future house having been penalized even before the school year could officially start, because of Lockhart´s uncontrollable arrogance.

Johnny Lockhart looked at the crowd, once again feigning a smile. He looked at the Gryffindor table, as his hands gently flailed, trying to appease them.

"Don´t worry, don´t worry," he said loudly, not realizing that the entire hall could hear him, "I´m worth two thousand house points by the end of the year."

The laughter got even louder. The Gryffindor Prefect, Mandalev Rostovic, the highest ranking student of their house, stood from the table and approached Lockhart. He held Johnny´s arm and forcefully assisted him to their table before he further humiliates himself and their house.

"Charm D´Aurora!" Emerashire shouted next, though the laughter had yet to cease.

As Charm D´Aurora ascended the stage, the laughter did stop. And Gryffindor Solomon knew why. Easily, the girl who was up next for sorting was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his young life. Her smooth, long hair was as dark as a moonless night. Her eyes were the color of the bluest skies. Her face conveyed the purity of a garden of flowers during the first days of summer, radiant and blooming and a seeming cradle of dreams. Charm D´Aurora, Gryffindor Solomon was enchanted by her name. She needed no education in witchcraft and wizardry. Her grace alone was enough to bewitch the stiffest of hearts. Her name was easy to remember. "Beauty of heaven." For Gryffindor Solomon, she wasn´t only the muse of heaven, but of the earth as well. She was the muse of everything.

And everyone seemed to share the same sentiment, as all were cradled to silence by the lovely girl´s alluring presence.

D´Aurora placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

My oh my, all eyes are on you, it seems

Something not so very new to you, my dear

What with your beauty, many joy it gleams

And your smile that conjures courage from fear

And the coming tale to be told will be written

In tears and sorrow and loss most of all

And you will be there, with your flock so smitten

There, when hope will rise, or when it falls

So where to place you, hmmmm, quite a thought

Though there is but a house where you´ll be akin

Where you will reap all that you have sought

Welcome your newest member now, oh...SLYTHERIN!!!

There was a triumphant shout in the Slytherin table, mostly from the boys therein. The other tables were visibly in dismay. And so was Gryffindor Solomon. Having Charm D´Aurora in the same house would have been the perfect set-up for his stay at Hogwarts. She would have been such an inspiration for his studies and his efforts to win house points. But alas, she was sorted to Slytherin, making her virtually out of his reach.

And Charm D´Aurora just smiled as she gracefully walked to the table of her new house, as the other students gave her longing looks, most specially from those in Gryffindor.

"Hey, you still have me," Johnny Lockhart said, but no one paid him any attention.

"Gryffindor Solomon!" Emerashire shouted.

Gryffindor was stunned upon hearing his name. This was the moment he always pictured in his dreams, the moment when he would take the stage to wear the Sorting Hat and lay claim to the destiny he was born with.

The Great Hall fell silent once more, taking interest at the name that was called. Gryffindor Solomon. It wasn´t hard to deduce why he was named such. Their curiosity has been visibly aroused.

Gryffindor took a deep breath to contain his excitement. He went up the stage and took his seat. He got the Sorting Hat from Emerashire and placed it on his head. And the Sorting Hat began to hum and sing once more...

I am but a hat but I know for certain

Why you were named so since birth

Your resolve is strong and you are driven

Though as of now, you are but dirt

They were insulting lines, but Gryffindor did not care. He particularly liked the "resolve is strong and you are driven" part. Characteristics of a true Gryffindor, he thought.

The coming times would be a turning of the page

And you will be in the middle of things, dear boy

And stormy days are ahead to darken the age

But will you be brave enough to foil this ploy?

Of course, Gryffindor wanted to shout. He was brave enough, he believed. He was named after Godric Gryffindor after all. He wanted so much to assure the Sorting Hat, but he thought otherwise. He might offend it, and it might retaliate by placing him in another house.

There will be many times for mistakes and lessons learned

There will be many times to prove your stuff...

Gryffindor became jittery. He really wanted to show the Sorting Hat that he would not even make the slightest mistake. He had the mark of Gryffindor! He bore his name!

But a name does not make us worthy of all that is yearned

You belong, oh Gryffindor, to the house of...HUFFLEPUFF!!!

The room burst into laughter once more, louder than when Lockhart was sorted to Gryffindor, for this time, even the Hufflepuff students were laughing. It was the irony of ironies. It had the makings of the biggest joke Hogwarts has ever seen. A Gryffindor in the House of Hufflepuff! It would be an entertaining seven years, they all thought with rampant amusement.

In the middle of the laughter, Gryffindor was shocked to silence. He could not believe what he has heard. All his life he believed he would be sorted to Gryffindor, as his name proclaimed. But now, he was in Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff! He recited the house´s name over and over, drowning him deeper in disbelief each and every time. He just could not accept what just transpired. What would his parents say? What would his family´s friends say? What would their neighborhood say? Johnny Lockhart, a great liar´s grandson, was placed in Gryffindor, while he, who carried the mark through his name, was placed in Hufflepuff? He wanted to quit Hogwarts right there and then...

"Mr. Solomon," Professor Emerashire called. But Gryffindor did not notice her. "Mr. Solomon!" she shouted instead, while tapping his shoulders.

Gryffindor was awakened from his shock.

"Mr. Solomon, you are delaying the ceremony," Emerashire said, "take your seat in the table of your new house, Hufflepuff."

Laughter resonated across the Great Hall once more when Emerashire mentioned the name of Hufflepuff. "Change your name to Hufflepuff Solomon!" one upper year student shouted to the screaming delight of the others. Gryffindor slowly stood up from the chair, his head still bowed in disbelief. He started to walk towards his left.

"Mr. Solomon," Emerashire once again called his attention, "the Hufflepuff table is on your right." The laughter grew louder.

Everything was like a blur the moment Gryffindor joined the Hufflepuff table. He was oblivious to everything that occurred thereafter, even to Ontario Wood´s welcoming gestures of preparing a seat for him and assisting him in settling down. Various names were called from the scroll that contained the names of first year students. They were sorted to various houses. He somewhat heard the name of three Weasleys, allegedly triplets, who were called one after another, and all were sorted to Gryffindor. Three times then, in succession, the house of Gryffindor was shouted. Why wasn´t it shouted when he was being sorted, Gryffindor Solomon questioned? He continued to drown himself in his sorrow, apathetic to everything that transpired, until Professor Emerashire halted the ceremony for an announcement.

"Before we continue with the Sorting Ceremony," she said, "it is with pride and honor that I introduce to you, the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..."

There was a large puff of smoke right behind the chair where the sorting took place. The smell of brimstone. It was no doubt a Zero Level Apparition, the highest form of magical transportation there is. Only the most powerful witches and wizards can achieve such feat and travel great distances with but the mention of two words unknown to magical people of lesser levels.

The students waited with bated breath for the smoke to clear, wanting to have a first look at the new Headmaster of their school. The clouds of Sulphur parted and a figure wearing silver robes laced with striking green and leathery black appeared from the stage. His hair was the color of resplendent white blonde. His gray eyes looked focused. His pointy face of pale complexion showed no traces of delight to be where he was.

"Faculty and students of Hogwarts," Emerashire continued, "welcome our new Head Master... Professor Draco Malfoy!"

The Great Hall was stunned to silence, which immediately dissipated with murmurs growing louder as they spread faster.

And only then did Gryffindor Solomon forget about his sadness, for the announcement was more startling than his recent travesty.

The murmurs abruptly ceased when the new Headmaster began to speak.

"I hope I am not late, Professor Emerashire," he said with a smug smile, "it is not everyday when one can witness a Potter get sorted."