House Havoc

    Jennie James kissed her father goodbye, then wrapped her arms around his waist in a gigantic bear hug. “I’ll miss you so much,” she whispered into his shirt. Geoffrey James smiled down at his daughter’s small dark head, and ruffled her already untidy hair.

    “Yes - like toothache, I’ll bet,” he said, grinning. He heard a small muffled laugh, and inwardly sighed. His wife had died only a year ago, and Jennie was all he had left. Now she was going away to boarding school, and Geoff didn’t know what he was going to do without her.

    He held Jennie away from him, looking her up and down. “Ah, my little girl - all grown up and leaving her grizzly old father behind.” He wiped an invisible tear melodramatically off his face, and was rewarded with a small, though watery, grin. He grew business-like once more, and put on a forbidding face. “Now, I want you to write every single hour,” he grinned at his daughter - she was a notoriously bad letter writer, “slave away over your homework, leave boys well alone, and,” he drew something out of his pocket, “wear this every hour of the day.”

    It was a small silver ring on a chain. Jennie gasped as her father put it over her head and let it fall with slight, comforting thud onto her chest. The ring was delicate and tiny, with a row of small green emeralds imbedded in the glittering silver. She looked up at Geoff with saucer-like eyes.

    “It was your... mother’s,” he said softly, “a great family heirloom - now it is yours.” Jennie looked once more at the ring, noting the initials S.S. on the inside, then hugged her father tightly once more. She really would miss him.

    “C’mon,” Geoff said gently, “you don’t want to miss the train.” Eyes brimming with salty tears, Jennie nodded, tucked the ring under her shirt, and pulled her trolley round. “Now,” Geoff said, “just walk straight and true, and nothing in the world could be easier.”

    With a final wave, he watched his daughter walk determinedly through the crowd - and disappear.

    Jennie had followed her father’s instructions, right up until when the wall loomed forbidding in front of her, and the ticket box seemed to be marching straight for her. She had carried on walking, trying to dismiss from her mind the possibility that her father might be a complete nutter, which seemed to be increasing rapidly. She clutched her ticket and the bar of her luggage trolley tightly. Platform 9 and 3/4 - surely there had to be another way to reach it? Just as a terrific crash with the wall looked like imminent, she looked over her shoulder. She wanted to fix her father’s face in her memory.

    He stood there, hand still in the air in a mournful goodbye, a sad smile barely creasing the wide laughter lines at the corners of his sparkling eyes that seemed a little to bright. But then, suddenly, he was gone. Jennie was left peering over her shoulder at a brick wall.

    “Wow,” she whispered. An impressive red and gleaming steam engine stood in the station, steam pouring from its chimney. People were everywhere - boarding the train, saying goodbye, pushing trolleys. Jennie looked up - a brass plaque read ‘Platform 9 and 3/4 - Hogwarts Express’. Jennie felt a thrill of excitement, and grinned broadly.

    Joining the throng, she made her way down the train to an empty compartment. A small boy with mousy hair was leaping on and off the train, apparently too excited to sit or stand still. As Jennie approached, he beamed at her. “I’m Dennis Creeevey,” he squeaked, sticking out a tiny arm. “Are you new too?”

    “Yeah. I’m Jennie James,” she said nodding.

    “Do you want a hand with your trunk?” he asked. Jennie, who was not exactly tall herself, looked at the tiny boy and grinned.

    “Are you sure?” she said. “It’s really heavy; even my dad had trouble lifting it.”

    “It’s okay - you push, I’ll pull.” As they vainly tried to heave the trunk aboard, Dennis chattered away, asking whether her dad had come to Hogwarts too, which house she thought she’d be in, and telling her what his brother had said about Quidditch, how his own dad (who was a milkman) had nearly died of amazement when his second son had got into Hogwarts, and imparting to her all of Harry Potter’s history. Harry Potter seemed to be his favourite subject, on which his brother was apparently the ultimate expert.

    Five minutes later, they were still no nearer getting the trunk onto the train and were very hot and bothered, thought, in Dennis’ case, not nearly out of breath. Three fourth years passed them, and one of them stopped. “Would you like a hand?” he asked.

    Jennie and Dennis looked up. “Yes please,” Jennie sighed, relieved. Dennis, most uncharacteristically, appeared tongue-tied, and stood trembling slightly at her side.

    The two boys, one with dark hair and glasses, and the other with a shock of vivid red hair and freckles lifted the trunk easily onto the train and into an empty compartment, while the girl, who had bushy brown hair and a kind smile said “New?”

    Jennie and Dennis nodded. “I’m Hermione Granger. And they’re Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.” Hermione jerked her head into the compartment where laughter could be heard - apparently the two boys were laughing. Beside her Jennie could feel Dennis drawing great shuddering breaths of painful ecstasy.

    So that was the famous Harry Potter, Jennie thought, he fitted the part of the hero - so tall, with such distinction in his red hair. “We’ll see you at the Sorting, then,” Hermione said as the two boys came back into view. Jennie’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked at the redheaded boy.

    The fourth years walked off, Jennie and Dennis staring after them. Dennis finally spoke, apparently awe-struck. “Harry Potter helped you to get your trunk on the train!” He turned to Jennie, eyes fanatically aglow. “We’ve got to tell my brother!”

    Jennie spent the journey with Dennis and Colin, who was an exact carbon copy of his younger brother, though unfortunately equipped with a camera. Jennie enjoyed their enthusiastic company, and she found out a lot about Hogwarts from Colin, though perhaps more than she needed to know about Harry Potter.

    “So you’re in Gryffindor?” she asked later that day, as she stared suspiciously at a green bean from her packet of ‘Bertie Botts’.

    “Yup,” said Colin, round a mouthful of chocolate frog. “And then there’s Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”

    “Slytherins are meeean,” said Dennis knowledgably. “You-Know-Who was the Heir of Slytherin.”

    “Really?” asked Jennie, interested, as she nibbled the end of the bean and discovered, to her relief, that it was celery. “I didn’t know that.”

    “Yup. We don’t talk to Slytherins,” Colin said. Jennie grinned inwardly - in the many stories her father had told her about life at Hogwarts, she had never heard of hatred between houses like Colin had talked about. But maybe, if you had to spend all day, every day with the Creevey brothers, you might wish you were a Slytherin just for some peace and quiet.

    Unforgivable though this thought was, it appeared to be common opinion, as three boys appeared at the door of the compartment. A pale blonde haired boy was flanked by the other two, and they looked round the compartment before speaking.

    “Seen Potter?” the pale boy drawled. Colin had stiffened, but Jennie nodded.

    “He’s down that way,” she said and pointed. The boy gave her a absent stare of mild distaste and detached interest.

    “New?” he asked, eyebrows raised “Well, then - a word of advice - steer clear of the scum, girl.” Looking disdainfully at the Creeveys, his upper lip curled. “The whole Gryffindor house is only there to mindlessly cheer their hero.” And giving Jennie one last bored stare, the boy, and his thuggish followers left.

    “Who was he?” Jennie asked in amazement, “and who did he think he was?”

    “Draco Malfoy, and God’s gift to humanity,” said a voice by the door. Jennie turned to see a tall girl leaning into the compartment.

    “Hullo,” the girl said, rolling the word out of her mouth. She had long curly hair and a wide grin. “I’m Bella Finch-Fletchly. How do you do? Listen here chaps, got any nosh? Only I’ve got the appetite of hippo, and Mother says the mouth to match. I’ve been in a compartment with that Malfoy - and I’ve had to listen to him bragging ALL journey.”

    “Poor you,” Jennie said. “I’m Jennie James. Want to join us?”

    Bella grinned, almost literally (it seemed) from ear to ear. “That’s quite a tongue-tickler of a name, and you have no idea how simply marvy that sounds. Food and marveeellous individuals.” She plonked down on an empty seat, and picked up an uneaten Pumpkin Pasty.

    “What a complete git that Malfoy bastard is,” she said around a mouthful of food.

    Jennie grinned, and Colin said brightly “Slytherin scum.”

    “If I were put in his house I’d commit suicide,” Bella said, “Slytherin or not.” Dennis nodded fervently. Bella picked up the open packet of Bertie Botts, and poured them all into her mouth at once.

    Colin and Dennis watched amazed as she proceeded to eat everything in sight. “Simply starving,” she said. “I finished my sandwich yonks ago, and the Malfoy brat wasn’t sharing.”

    “Slytherin scum,” Colin reiterated.

    “Couldn’t be more right. Be a darling and pass the frogs. Ta.” She polished off a stack of chocolate frogs in the time it took Jennie to say “So you’re new too this year. Dennis and me are too.”

    “Bully for ‘ou,” Bella said in a muffled voice. “Hogwarts is going to be ‘piffing - got a brother there - ‘Ustin, though I suspect he’s avoidin’ me - thinks I’m orfully embarrassing. Don’t know why.”

    The train slowed to a halt as she spoke, and there was a mad scrabble as the four of them realised they weren’t in their robes. Jennie and Bella dashed down the train giggling excitedly, and stopped in Bella’s compartment to change.

    Draco Malfoy and his large friends came in just as Jennie threw her cloak over her shoulders, and Bella scrambled out of her trousers.

    “Do you MIND?!” she squawked, standing in only her underwear as Draco hurriedly turned away again. Bella caught Jennie’s eyes, and they both burst out laughing.

    “Son of a monkey’s uncle! What does one have to do to GET SOME PRIVACY AROUND HERE?!” Bella yelled pointedly towards the door.

    There was a slightly muffled cursing from down the corridor and Dennis’ squeaky voice calling “Jenniee? Bella? We have to get of the train!”

    “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” came Draco’s drawling voice, as Jennie and Bella came round the door.

    “Lead on, McDuff,” commanded Bella throatily, pulling her arms into her sleeves. As the three first years clambered off the train, Jennie saw Draco Malfoy shoot them a look of pure venom. Oops, she thought absently, as she followed Dennis down the steps, to face a gigantic hairy man smiling over the heads of the students.

    “Firs’ years! Firs’ years follow me! Over here! Careful now - follow me.” Jennie caught one glimpse of a tall, red-headed figure, before she was led away down a slippery incline. It was raining heavily now, drenching the first-years to the skin. Dennis slipped repeatedly back into the two girls, until Bella hitched him under his armpits, and practically carried him down the winding lane after the massive, blurred outline of Hagrid.

    When the path began to even out, Jennie looked up from the mud she had been carefully squelching through, and her mouth suddenly fell open.

    “Your jaw’s on the floor,” Bella giggled, following Jennie’s line of vision. Hogwarts castle lay across a shimmering black lake, high up on a cliff. Stars twinkled around it’s impressive dark outline, mingling with the shining golden lights from the castle’s many windows. There were innumerable turrets and towers stretching upwards, which Jennie could hear Dennis immediately start to count.

    A fleet of small boats, there lanterns swinging, were being lapped by the water at the shore. “No more than four to boat,” the giant-man shouted, as the chattering children ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’, and scrambled over to the boats.

    Bella hopped nimbly into a boat, still carrying the wide-eyed Dennis who was shivering violently from a mixture of excruciating excitement and pneumonia. Jennie climbed in after them, and they took their seats, Dennis practically jumping and down in his. Jennie was followed in by large, tall boy who had a squashed-looking nose and glaring black eyes.

    “Bella Finch-Fletchly,” Bella said enthusiastically, sticking out a hand.

    “Baddock, Malcolm Baddock,” the boy said coldly, staring at the offered hand.

    “Obviously fancies himself as James Bond,” Bella said in a not-so-quiet whisper, as the boy turned to stare at the castle. Jennie frowned bemusedly, but Dennis giggled enthusiastically.

    “Everybody in? Righ’ then - FORWARD!” called the gigantic man who had a boat to himself. The flotilla of boats pushed off from the shore, gliding across the dark, rain-splattered lake. The students were all huddling together under their robes, by now freezing cold, and drenched in icy water.

    Tiny Dennis, however, was leaning over the prow of the boat, gazing up at the castle. “Wow,” he kept saying excitedly. The rest of the students were equally awed - there was silence as they crossed the lake, leaving the heavy, monotonous thuds and splashes of the rain drops ringing loud in Jennie’s ears.

    She was peering over the side of the boat, staring into the black depths of the lake, when suddenly she heard a small squeak. Turning round, she was just quick enough to see Dennis’ feet disappear over the edge of the boat.

    “Stop!” Jennie yelled, forgetting herself, and standing up to wave her arms in the air, making he boat rock madly. “Stop! Stop! Dennis has fallen in! Wait! Help!”

    Bella was also on her feet, and she yelled, in a booming voice that carried much further across the misty lake than Jennie’s screams did - “I SAY! MAN OVER BOARD! SOME ASSISTANCE REQUIRED!”

    The giant-man in the first boat, turned, and pulled something from his massive overcoat that Bella couldn’t quite see through the pouring rain. It couldn’t be?... not at pink umbrella?

    Jennie however, hadn’t waited for assistance - tugging her wand from her robes (not quite sure what she was going to do with it) she had then plunged her head into the water, looking round for Dennis. It was pitch black under the water, and the rain drops falling quickly and heavily on the surface of the lake were not felt at all.

    Jennie cast around eagerly for a sight of Dennis, and was just running out of air, when she saw, barely visible against the blackness of the lake, Dennis’ tiny form, robes billowing out him as he fell, gently downwards.

    The giant squid was just taking his mid-evening perambulation around him lake, when he saw a tiny black speck falling softly towards him. An exotic fish? No, it wasn’t - it looked like nothing more nor less than a small drowning rat-thing. As the tiny black creature spiralled downwards, the squid saw a flash of pale white. It was a small face, eyes wide open, and mouth grinning. A human then, from the shoal of humans who lived Up There. The squid liked the shoal of humans - they tickled him in summer when he surfaced to bathe in the warming rays of the Glowing Thing.

    Gently, the squid reached out a tentacle, and began to prod the human back towards the surface, propelling him through the water.

    Jennie saw Dennis spiral away, and then, miraculously, she saw him come right back up again. Gently, he was pushed up to the flock of now stationary boats, and delicately, he was shoved into her arms. Gasping, she resurfaced, and Bella who had been holding on to her ankles just in case, let go of her.

    As she did so, and began to help to haul Dennis into the boat, the giant-man arrived. “Oh dear,” he said gently, lifting Dennis out of the water as if he were nothing bigger than a puppy. The man brandishing the pink umbrella, quite lethally Bella thought, pulled off his massive black overcoat and threw it over tiny shivering Dennis.

    “There you go,” he said kindly to Dennis, patting him gently on the back and nearly knocking him back into the water. “Tha’ was quite a tumble you took then, little one.”

    He turned to Jennie, who gulped nervously, and pushed her sopping hair out of her eyes, expecting a lecture about reckless behaviour. Then quite suddenly, a smile creased the giant's otherwise fearsome looking face, half-covered as it was by a shaggy black beard, making him look kindly and gentle, or as much so as the girls could see through the rain. “Tha’ was very brave of you,” he said. “I’m Hagrid - the gamekeeper, and tha’ there,” he jerked his head towards the lake, “is me friend Cuddles.”

    Bella’s mouth had fallen open, but Hagrid didn’t notice, having turned his boat round. “Right,” he roared to all the students over the beating of the rain, “let’s get inside!”

    A ragged cheer followed this, as the boats sped away over the lake, Dennis still, unbelievably, grinning from ear to ear.

    The real Harry Potter settled into his chair next to the real Ron Weasley who was staring hopefully at his empty gold plate, and massaging his empty stomach. “Fooood,” he was moaning desperately. “Stupid sorting - let’s EAT.”

    Harry knew exactly how he felt, but still, he was interested to see the Sorting of the new students - he’d never seen one before, having been unfortunately absent for the last two years since his own Sorting. He knew how nervous he’d been then - partially because Ron had told him that he might have to wrestle a troll, but also because of the strange power that seemed to emanate from the battered old Sorting Hat.

    He remembered, only to well, the Hat talking into his ear as he sat in front of the whole school. The Hat had pondered whether to put him in Slytherin or Gryffindor, but Harry who had heard of Slytherin’s awful reputation, had desperately pleaded ‘Not Slytherin!’ and he had been placed in Gryffindor where he was Seeker on the Quidditch team, had lots of friends, and a reputaion as hero, after defeating the Dark Lord, and Heir of Slytherin, Lord Voldemort, three times in his short life. Yes, the Hat had chosen well for him, and the hundreds of students before, and no doubt the hundreds that would come after him. After all, the Hat knew all, and the Hat was never wrong.

    As Harry thought this, the doors to the Great Hall flew open, and Professor McGonagall entered, the first years following nervously trailing behind her, leaving muddy puddles behind them. They were soaked to the bone, their robes sticking to the bedraggled forms, their feet squelching in dirty trainers. From where Harry was sitting, he could see a muscle going painfully in Filch’s cheek as he watched their muddy progress.

    The last few students came in through the door, and Harry watched as a tiny, black draped figure tripped up behind an amazingly tall girl with a large grin.

    Jennie felt Dennis trip over his own feet in excitement behind her, and stumble into the back of Bella, as they all proceeded solemnly up the hall to come to a halt in front of the whole school. The dark bewitched ceiling rumbled threateningly overhead, making the hundreds and thousands of floating candles flicker in an unfelt wind.

    Jennie had a desperate urge to giggle, which she could only hope was down to nerves, because there seemed nothing about the situation that a sane person would find even vaguely funny. A lot hung on this, and all of a sudden, Jennie was painfully aware of that. She was also aware of the hundreds of eyes upon her, and it seemed, only on her. Flushing scarlet, Jennie looked up from her feet where she had fixed her attention when it seemed the hugeness of the hall would overwhelm her, and looked around.

    There were four tables, one for each house she supposed, and at each table, around two hundred students sat, staring at a fifth table, facing all the others on a raised platform around which the professors sat. That was a lot of people. A lotta lotta people.

    A crazy thought chased across Jennie’s brain - she had to do something to get out of this, and get out of it now, even if it made streaking naked through the hall so she could be sent home. She didn’t want to be here - she really didn’t want to be here; all she wanted was her dad. Her dad, her teddy bear, and a hot water-bottle.

    Professor McGonagall placed a three-legged stool in front of the teacher’s table, and on top of it, a pointed, slightly fraying and delicately patched wizard’s hat. Jennie stared. So did everyone else, watching it expectantly.

    In the silence, Jennie felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Draco Malfoy had caught her eye to give her a smile. It was not encouraging. Holy moley.

    Then suddenly, a gash near the brim of the hat opened wide and the hat began to sing -

A thousand years or more ago,

When I was newly sewn,

There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still known,

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,

They hatched a daring plan

To educate young sorcerers

Thus Hogwarts School began.

Now each of these four founders

Formed their own house, for each

Did value different virtues

In the ones they had to teach.

By Griffindor, the bravest were

Prized beyond the rest;

for Ravenclaw the cleverest

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

And power-hungry Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

While still alive they did divide

Their favourites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones

When they were dead and gone?

‘Twas Griffindor who found the way,

He whipped me from his head

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead,

Now slip me snug about your ears,

I’ve never yet been wrong,

I’ll take a look inside your head,

And tell where you belong!

    Applause filled the Hall as the Hat finished singing, and Jennie and Bella exchanged disbelieving, nervous glances. Bella had obviously not been warned about singing hats either.

    Jennie’s inclination to laugh miraculously left her as Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll of parchment, and began to call names out. The line of students slowly dwindled as in turn, each student sat on the stool, and trembling, disappeared under the hat. It would appear that Godric Griffindor had had a very large head.

    Jennie watched nervously as Malcolm Baddock of the squashed nose became a Slytherin (“I knew it!” hissed Bella) and was cheered enthusiastically by Draco Malfoy (“Scum,” hissed Bella). Jennie felt began to feel more and more sick as the line of students very slowly dwindled.

“Creevey, Dennis,” called Professor McGonagall. Dennis tripped towards the stool, still wrapped in Hagrid’s enormous coat, which Jennie thought, could have made an elephant look small. As Dennis stumbled past her, she heard a faint squeaking from the multiple pockets, and realised, with a slight start, that Dennis’ fidgeting might not have been induced by excitement alone. Dennis perched on the edge of the stools, still grinning painfully broadly, and as he vanished under the Sorting Hat - which covered his whole head - he flashed Jennie and Bella a thumbs-up (“Mental,” hissed Bella).

    Seconds later, the gash in the hat opened once more and called - “Griffindor!” Jennie and Bella cheered along with the rest, Bella’s deep “GO, CREEVEY!” carrying far across the hall much to everyone’s amusement.

    The line got progressively shorter until - “Finch-Fletchly, Bella,” called Professor McGonagall. Bella took a deep breath and grinned at Jennie.

    “Here goes nothing,” she said, and marched towards the stool, sitting down with a bump, and perching the Hat rakishly on the back of her head. Jennie saw her wink at an older, male version of herself at the Hufflepuff table, before joining it herself to tumultuous applause. Jennie was one of very few left now, and the call of “James, Jennie” came far too soon.

    Feeling as if her knees would collapse, Jennie walked forward, picked up the hat, sat down on the stool, and put the hat on her head. The last thing she saw before the hat slipped over her eyes, was a red head, a hooked nose with a sprinkling of freckles, and a pair of bright eyes - fixed on her.

    “A little preoccupied, Miss James?” said a voice in her head. She jumped, startled. “Now - just give me a minute,” the voice continued, “Let’s see what we’ve got in here - recklessness, but bravery - a Griffindor perhaps? A bad temper you’ve got there, curiosity too - could get you into trouble that... I should think you’d be a - GRIFF -” The hat had started to call the last word aloud to the hall, but then, suddenly, it had stopped.

    “But wait,” said the voice in her head, “what is this? What mark do you carry? What blood do you have? There is only one house that could spawn this - SLYTHERIN!”

    Jennie was shaking violently as she took the Hat off, and stood up. The whole hall was staring at her dumbstruck. “Oops,” she thought vaguely, as she stood rooted to the spot.

    Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were staring along with the rest. The small, shaking figure alone on the platform simply stood, the Sorting Hat held limply in her hands, apparently in a state of nervous shock and indecision. And she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to do.

    The teachers looked shocked and horrified - never had the Sorting Hat faltered in it’s judgement. Professor McGonagall was aghast, standing with the scroll of parchment still open in front of her. Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms teacher had toppled off his pile of cushions with a small squeak of surprise as the Hat called out a second time. Professor Snape observed the small figure with a mixture of astonishment and deep distaste, and somewhere, behind the revulsion, a calculating detachment. Only Professor Dumbledore looked calm, as he regarded the girl over he top of his glasses with mild amusement and interest, his piercing blue eyes sharp, though twinkling.

    Then Harry looked at the girl herself. She was short, and slim with cascades of dark wet hair pushed back from a small, elfish face. Her dark eyes of indistinguishable colour reflected the dancing candlelight, making her white face look ethereal and unreal in the semi-blackness. She looked vaguely familiar.

    “You put her trunk on the train today,” whispered Hermione. Yes, he remembered - the girl and Dennis Creevey struggling on their own. Harry glanced over at Dennis, who seemed awe-struck too, though Colin had lifted up his camera and swiftly clicked away.

    The clicking echoed round the silent Hall, and seemed to break the spell. Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said calmly, gesturing for the still-motionless Jennie to sit down. She moved forward slightly then hesitated. On one side of the Hall, sat a shocked table of those with red and gold badges, on the other, a sneering table of students in green. She looked from one to the other, then turned to her headmaster. He only smiled kindly down at her along a bent and crooked nose. She understood - it was her choice.

    Turning to the Griffindor table, her eyes flickered quickly over each student in turn. She saw Hermione, looking bewildered , though she was unaware that Hermione was secretly wishing to get her hands on a copy of Hogwarts, A History to find out whether this phenomena had ever happened before.

    She saw red-headed Harry Potter and his bespectacled friend Ron Weasley, their mouths both open in shock. She blushed slightly and looked further down the table. She saw the newly Sorted Griffindor first-years, still in nervous huddles looking on uncomprehendingly - they didn’t understand the enormity of what had just happened. Jennie felt a stab of envy - at least they knew where they belonged.

    And then, a familiar face met her eyes. Dennis Creevey sat, right next to his brother near the end of table. His smile had faded slightly now, and in his large bug-eyes there was confusion, distrust and uncertainty.

    Jennie suddenly became aware of a heavy, glaring stare fixed on her. Right beside Dennis, sat Colin. He was frowning, and when he saw his stare was returned, he drew himself up, and turned his back on her. A sudden chill swept over her, and she felt very old.

    Of course, she thought detachedly, ‘we don’t talk to Slytherins’. Colin had said it, and meant it. Gryffindors don’t speak to Slytherins. Gryffindors hate Slytherins.

    And that, she realised, was what she was. A Slytherin. The Hat had called it out, and there would always be doubt, even if she did march straight over and sit next to Colin. She would never be welcome there.

    Slowly, Jennie turned. As she did so, she saw Bella out of the corner of her eye, absently holding a fork in mid-air, her mouth wide open in shock. “Your jaw’s on the floor,” Jennie murmured to herself.

    Then, she turned to look at the green-robed students of Slytherin house. Draco Malfoy sat in the middle of the table watching her shrewdly, his two massive friends on either side of him. They were the only ones who seemed unconcerned by her unwanted presence; they were clutching their knifes and forks and staring at the plates in front of them. Jennie almost smiled.

    Then, quite calmly, she walked over to the table, and sat down. Immediately, noise sprang up around her as the Hall filled the murmurs of the students. She fixed her eyes on the head table, ignoring the pressure of the eyes on her back and the glare of Malcolm Baddock in front of her.

    Dumbledore was on his feet again, arms outstretched for silence. Gradually it fell, and he smiled benignly on them. “The Sorting shall be shortly finished - I ask you remain calm - I know you are eager for your suppers.” He sat down again, and Professor McGonagall seemed to snap out of her trance, and begin to call out names again.

    Jennie stared absently at the stool, and then again at her plate, as the Sorting ended on Kevin Whitby, the feast began, seeing and knowing nothing. Her golden plate remained untouched as Slytherins around her piled food into their mouths and onto their plates. She was still in her stupor as Dumbledore stood to give out notices, and then dismissed the full and satisfied students to their beds.

    Coming to herself, she realised that people were leaving the Hall, and climbed, stiff legged out of her seat. She got as far as the door before her legs gave way under her, and she sank to the floor in a dead faint.