Harry Potter and the Ruby of Karda

Chapter 3: An Unusual Sorting

The next morning was pandemonium. Fred and George seemed intent to make their last year at Hogwarts memorable – Mrs. Weasley had to use the Summoning Charm repeatedly to rid them of trick toffees, the marriage proposal invention, and many other tricks. She was in a thoroughly bad mood when she was done – compounded by the fact that Mr. Weasley did nothing to help – and just seemed amused by Fred and George’s tricks.

But finally, they were off to London, in two cars Mr. Weasley had used his contacts at the Ministry to get. It wasn’t the most pleasant of trips, Harry thought privately. Mrs. Weasley was still looking annoyed. Fred and George were sulking, and whispering something to each other, looking resentful. Harry was left to sit in silence, wishing he were in the other car. But both Ron and Hermione had flatly refused to travel in the same car as the Weasley twins. Ron was still rather embarrassed about last night, and he wasn’t talking to either Fred or George. Hermione had looked grim and determined, rather like she had last year when she had an argument with Rita Skeeter, the Daily Prophet reporter. Harry shook his head. Last night, it looked like Hermione and Ron might team up and give Fred and George a taste of their own medicine. This morning though, it looked like they were just going to ignore each other. Pity, he thought. There was something cheering about looking forward to a year of pranks.

With all the delays, they made it to Platform Nine and Three Quarters with just seconds to spare before the Hogwarts Express left. The platform was empty of students; groups of parents were standing around in small tense groups. Harry had no time to take in any of this; he was just concerned with getting on the train. He was in no hurry to repeat the entrance he made in his second year – when Ron and he had flown to Hogwarts in a car enchanted to fly by Mr. Weasley. Apart from the fact that Harry was sure he would get expelled if he ever did something like that again – he didn’t dare face Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to see red at any mention of a prank.

They all clambered on the last compartment, which was mercifully empty. Harry, Ron and Hermione settled down. The twins promptly disappeared to find Lee Jordan – Ginny mumbled something about finding her friends, and left too. Ron and Hermione seemed to be over the embarrassment of last night, they were talking normally to each other.

“Did you notice how everyone looks afraid, almost?”, Hermione began, once they had stowed their trunks.

“I think word has got around – that You-Know-Who has been resurrected.”, Ron said somberly. Harry looked at Ron. “So where were you last summer?”, he asked. The question had been on the tip of his tongue for days. He was glad they were on the train – he could finally get an answer.

“It was Prof. Dumbledore”, Ron explained, casting a cautious eye at the door of the compartment. Hermione got up, opened it, looked up and down at the corridor, and came back. “No one’s around”, she said. “Looks very quiet.”

“The last time You-Know-Who was on the rise,”, Ron continued, “his supporters had infiltrated the Ministry – and Prof. Dumbledore wanted to make sure that this time around, we would be better prepared. So he asked us to spend part of the summer at the Armstrongs.” Seeing Harry’s confused look, he added, “The Armstrongs are an old Wizarding family. Very powerful and influential – connections all over the place in the Ministry. Their children are a mixed bag – they both go to Hogwarts, the eldest daughter Susan is in Ravenclaw, she’s a third year this year, the younger son is in Slytherin, second year. Prof. Dumbledore thought they might be someone You-Know-Who would use to spy for him – either directly or indirectly. And he wanted to scout out which way their loyalties would lie, just in case. We were all houseguests of theirs in their summer home in the South of France. Dad and Mom were collecting information for Prof. Dumbledore – we enjoyed the sun.”

“Why didn’t your mom want anyone to know?”, Hermione asked. “And why couldn’t you send us an owl?” Harry put in.

“We were their house-guests – she didn’t want anything to get out while we were still there – it was too dangerous. The owls got banned for a far more stupid reason – Percy was using the owls all the time – not just Hermes, but Pig, and even Erroll. And Fred and George were running their joke shop out of there too – order forms flying in and out all the time – so Mom just banned owls finally.” He shrugged. “I tried to tell her I needed to write to you both, but I think she was also worried that I might let something slip by accident to you. So, no owls.”

Harry leaned back in his seat. All the while, he had been imagining horrible things happening to the Weasleys, and it turned out to be something this silly. He should have been more confident in Prof. Dumbledore – he thought and dismissed the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that Ron’s explanation had left him with. “So, did you find out anything about the Armstrongs?” he asked.

“I think Mum and Dad did”, Ron replied. “I don’t know what it is, though. They wouldn’t discuss it when any of us were around.”

Hermione shook her head briskly. “Now that that’s out of the way,”, she said, “Did you finish your homework, Ron? What was your Dark Arts research about?”

Harry groaned. Hermione had nagged him into writing an uninspired account of Dark Arts detection mechanisms. He had pieced together well known facts about Sneakascopes, Foe Glasses, and other devices, had even included a 6 inches of parchment on Mad-Eye Moody’s magical eye, and tried his level best to get it to the required 5 feet length. He wasn’t proud of his work – but the whole topic had left him uninterested. He had little desire to do any extensive Dark Arts research. He had all the Dark Arts knowledge he could ever want, he thought. Watching Voldemort being reborn had stolen any desire he ever had to know more about the Dark Arts.

Surprisingly, Ron looked animated. “I looked up Werewolves.”, he said. “How one becomes a werewolf, what the differences are between werewolves that are bitten, and those born to werewolf parents. I was hoping I could find something that told me how to cure a Werewolf – but I couldn’t. Still, it was easy work, and very interesting.”

Both Hermione and Harry looked interested. They were all thinking of Prof. Lupin, their Defense against Dark Arts professor. “I wonder if that would be possible”, Hermione said thoughtfully. “After all, if one can become a werewolf, it stands to reason there would be something to reverse that, right? But I couldn’t find anything that cured a Vampire either… I just think we aren’t looking hard enough, though. I mean, a lot of wizards won’t have anything to do with a werewolf or a vampire, they would be hardly likely to spend time looking for a cure, when it is much easier to shun them as Dark Creatures.”

“Hermione, please tell me this is not some new campaign you are going to start”, Ron groaned. “Honestly, wasn’t S.P.E.W enough?”

“You have to stand up for what you believe is right”, Hermione stated, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You have to make a stand, Ron. I can’t believe you support the ill-treatment of Vampires and Werewolves.”

Ron and Hermione looked like they were going to start bickering yet again, so Harry stood up quickly. “I’m going to take a walk down the train, and see if I can find either Seamus or Neville. You both want to come?”

Ron got up. “Yes, let’s go find them. Come on, Hermione, we need to talk to Seamus too.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

Hermione smiled widely. “Why, he is going to help us get even with Fred and George”, she said. “You didn’t think we’d let them off that easy, did you?”

…

Seamus had been quite happy to help, he was quite excited about playing a trick on Fred and George. “Lets go find Dean”, he suggested. “He likes jokes too – he might have some good ideas.”

So the lot of them set off down the train corridor. They found Dean all the way up in the front of the train. He was talking excitedly to Neville, Parvati and Lavender. “Check this out!”, Dean exclaimed. “I can’t get into the compartment ahead of us.”

“So someone’s locked the door”, Hermione replied. “Nothing to get excited over, is there?”

“But it isn’t locked!”, Neville answered. “We thought that in the beginning – but the lunch witch just came out of there, and we tried to go in, because Trevor is lost, and I was looking for him. And this is the strange part, the door opened, but all we can see is a golden haze. But it is solid, my hand wouldn’t pass through it.”

Ron must have been thinking what Harry was, because he said “You found that out by yourself, Neville? That’s really brave of you.”

Neville looked embarrassed. “Dean, Parvati and Lavender were with me too”, he said, as Ron nudged Harry unobtrusively. “I think Neville wants to look brave in front of the girls”, he mumbled out of the side of his mouth. Harry chuckled to himself.

“Let’s go look”, he suggested. He went out to the corridor and tried the door. It wouldn’t open. The others crowded behind him, as he tried jiggling the handle again. “Move aside”, Dean said, “Let me try.”

“Did you open it the first time, or did the witch with the lunch cart leave it open?”, Hermione wanted to know. “No, the lunch witch left it slightly ajar”, Neville replied. “So maybe it just locked shut?” Hermione reasoned. She took out her wand, pointed it at the handle, and said “Alohomora”. Nothing happened.

Ron had in the meanwhile, bent down and was trying to peek under the door. “This is strange”, he said. “It looks really hazy in there, as far as I can see. Why would it be hazy?”

“Is it a golden haze?”, Harry started asking, but he was interrupted by the witch with the lunch cart. “Can I get through”, she asked. Parvati quickly said “Can you help? We can’t seem to get this door open.”

“Maybe it is stuck. They stick sometimes.”, the witch replied. She tried the handle, which turned and the door swung open. She continued along the corridor. Ron, Hermione and Harry had in the meanwhile tried to enter the compartment. But, just as Neville had described, they were blocked by a hazy, golden wall.

“See? I’ve never heard of a spell that can do this” Dean said. Hermione nodded. “Yes, it feels like a force-field of some kind. I’ve never heard of something like this, either”.

“What if you tried ending the spell?” Harry asked, as he took out his own wand and muttered “Finite Incantatum”. Nothing happened, if anything, the golden haze somehow seemed less hazy, and more solid.

“What if it just needs more power?”, Hermione said. “Let’s all try it at once. On the count of three. One… two… three…”

At three, all of them yelled “Finite Incantatum” at the same time. This time it was clear, the golden haze was definitely getting more solid. They were all standing, staring at the wall, when all of a sudden they heard a cool voice behind the door say “Bhas. Ghul Jaao.” The door dissolved.

“Yes!”, Ron yelled triumphantly, but his voice trailed off.

A woman was standing in the compartment. She had dark skin, black hair, and a look of icy fury on her face. In the corner of the compartment, sat a young girl, who also had black hair worn in two pigtails.

“What would it take for me to get some privacy in this train?”, she asked, in a voice that shook with barely suppressed anger.

They stammered apologies and hastily backed out of the compartment. As they made their way over to their compartment, Neville asked in a small voice, “Is she going to be the new Defense Against Dark Arts teacher?”

Dean nodded somberly. “No other vacancies, are there? We are in for it this year. She’s almost as bad as Snape, honestly!”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “I wonder if that’s her daughter?” she asked. “Did any of you take a look at that girl? They looked alike.”

Harry hadn’t noticed, and neither had Ron, but Parvati and Lavender agreed with Hermione. “Maybe a new first-year?”

“And the spell she said – I’ve never heard of that”, Hermione added. “Bhas. Gul Jo?, was that what she said? I’m going to look it up…”

They speculated on the new DADA teacher for a little while, and then talk turned to the practical jokes. Parvati and Lavender were inclined to be disapproving at first, but they soon got excited by the talk of pranks. Neville looked rather worried and said “My grandmother will be furious if she finds out…”, but then he grinned. “Getting Fred and George, though, that would be worth it.” They roared with laughter at Harry’s description of the twins’ new trick, He left out that they had tried it on Ron and Hermione, and instead told them how Piers Polkiss had got into trouble proposing to every girl in his class. Time passed pleasantly until the train pulled into the station.

…

With the sound of Hagrid’s “First years, over here” ringing in his ears, Harry got into a carriage with Ron and Hermione, leaving their trunks on the train. Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. “House-Elves”, she said in a disgusted tone. Ron and Harry both ignored that, they didn’t want Hermione to start up S.P.E.W (Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare) again, instead they tried to look for the new Defense Against Dark Arts teacher or her daughter. But there was no sign of either of them.

They pulled up at the entrance, and made their way to the Great Hall. Fred and George were there, they were talking to their friend Lee Jordan in low voices. Fred and George flashed Ron identical cautious smiles, and George held out his hand. “Sorry, Ron. We wouldn’t have tested the trick on you if we realized you would be this angry about it. Friends?”

“Yes, we are sorry, Hermione.”, piped in Fred. “Really. Awful bad judgment there…”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, before Hermione shook hands with George rather formally. “Let’s forget about it.”, she said. Ron shook hands with Fred. “Alright, Friends.”

“Look, the teachers are making their way in”, Harry whispered, and quickly found a seat. The others did likewise, and turned towards the High Table to watch. The witch they had met on the train was with the teachers. Harry looked at Snape. Usually, Snape hated all the Defense Against Dark Arts teachers with a passion, it was rumored that he had been after the Defense Against Dark Arts job for years. But Snape was studiously avoiding looking at her. Almost like the way he looked at Prof. Moody, Harry thought. Is he afraid of her?

Fred and George, in the meanwhile, were wondering who the new teacher was. Ron quickly filled them in about the events on the train. “Ooh”, Fred said. “She looks tougher than Prof. McGonagall”, he commented. “Its time we had a good Defense Against Dark Arts teacher – I mean, what with You-Know-Who and all.”

Everyone who could hear that looked fearful, but Harry could see many heads nodding to that. It seemed like most the Gryffindors had accepted that Voldemort had returned, and they were trying to be brave about it, and learn how to stand up to him. Harry’s heart filled with pride for his house.

Up at the High Table, Prof. Dumbledore was standing, and clearing his throat for silence. He was beaming at the tables of students. “Welcome!” he said. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start, so I ask that you keep quiet.”

Harry looked around at the other house tables. He could catch a glimpse of Cho at the Ravenclaw table, she was talking animatedly to someone sitting next to her. At the Slytherin table, Malfoy was sitting, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, with a sneering look on his face. He said something to Crabbe and Goyle, who laughed on cue. Harry turned away quickly. Every time he saw Malfoy, he was filled with rage. “DeathEater scum”, Ron said in disgust, noticing where Harry had been looking.

“Shh. Look. The first-years are filing in”, Hermione said disapprovingly. They turned to look. A neat line of first years were making their way in, lead by Prof. McGonagall. They lined up in front of the High Table. As she had done the year Harry got sorted, Prof. McGonagall placed a small stool in front of the line of students, and placed the School Sorting Hat on it. She then made her way to the High Table, where she sat down.

Everyone was looking at the Sorting Hat. As they were looking, a hole near the brim widened to become a mouth, and the Hat began to sing,

Oh, I may look sad and old,
And patched and frayed and torn,
But inside, I have a heart of gold,
For, the moment I am worn,
I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,
The magical, mysterious Thinking Lid,
And if you ask – what means that?
I say to you – I thee bid,
Try me on – I’ll read your mind,
And tell you what House you will be in,
It could be Gryffindor, you may find,
Or Ravenclaw, Hufflepuf, or Slytherin.
Gryffindors are brave, with nerves of steel,
They are daring and bold,
And if you are Sorted there, you might feel,
Rather special, I’m told.
Ravenclaws are clever, witty and wise,
If you go there, you will see,
Sharp minds, ooh - that’s nice,
And good company they will be.
Hufflepufs work hard,
They are patient and just,
These are virtues they guard,
And so too you must.
The folks at Slytherin,
Are cunning and devious,
Above all, they like to win,
That’s rather obvious.
So go ahead, do not fear,
I don’t bite, I promise you that,
Find out, for I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat!

A storm of applause greeted the Sorting Hat’s song, and it bowed first to the High Table, then to the four House tables. It then sat still on its stool as Professor McGonagall stood up and started calling out names.

“Archer, Gregory”. A small boy with curly blond hair stepped forward, sat on the stool and put the hat on.

“RAVENCLAW”, the Sorting Hat announced, to the cheers of the Ravenclaw table.

“Blake, Sophie”. At this, a scared looking girl ran to sit on the stool.

“SLYTHERIN”, screamed the Sorting Hat. At this, the Slytherins cheered too.

“Durgin, Anna”.

And so it continued, until Prof. McGonagall called out “Manohar, Priya”.

“That’s her. The girl in the train.”, Ron said excitedly. “Check it out, the new DADA teacher is looking interested.”. That was rather an understatement, when Prof. McGonagall had called out the name, the woman had leaned forward, and was now staring intently at her daughter.

The girl stepped forward, put the Hat on her head, and sat on the stool. Moments ticked by. People all over the Hall were starting to notice the resemblance between the woman in the High Table and the girl on the stool. Harry could see Malfoy over in the Slytherin table whisper something intently to Crabbe and Goyle.

The clock ticked on. It had now been almost 5 minutes since the girl had put on the Hat. She wasn’t looking worried, though, she looked calm and serene. The same could not be said of her mother, Harry noticed that she was still regarding her daughter with the same intent stare, and now she looked rather tense. Oddly enough, so did Prof. Dumbledore, who generally always looked cheerful. He was regarding Priya Manohar somberly. He bent forward, and said something quietly to Prof. McGonagall.

6 minutes…, 7 minutes…, 8 minutes… - the students in the Great Hall were growing restless. Whispers started to break out everywhere. “I’ve never seen it take so long to Sort someone,” Fred said quietly to Ron and Harry. “The Hat has always Sorted someone in a couple of minutes.”

“Look!” Hermione whispered. “Prof. Dumbledore is getting up.”

And indeed, Prof. Dumbledore was getting up. He walked up to the stool, and said something quietly to the girl, who went to stand at the end of the line of students. Then he placed the Sorting Hat on his head. There was total silence in the Great Hall, everyone was watching what Prof. Dumbledore was doing. After standing with the Sorting Hat on for a minute or so, he took the Hat off his head. He nodded to Prof. McGonagall, who looked suddenly worried.

“Miss. Manohar will not be Sorted by the Hat. We will determine what House she will be in at the end of the Sorting Ceremony.”, she announced, raising a hand for silence in response to the pandemonium that had broken out at this announcement. “Silence, please.”

But the Great Hall was in an uproar. It seemed that no one present had heard of something like this. Harry could see some Slytherin students on their feet, shouting something angrily. Strangely, though, Malfoy was sitting quietly, looking at Priya Manohar with the same intense look her mother had given her. He looked very thoughtful.

Hermione, in the meanwhile, was telling Ron and anyone else listening that she had never heard of the Sorting Hat unable to Sort a student. “And it says in Hogwarts, A History that the Hat has always Sorted the students into their Houses from the time Hogwarts was founded.”, she said.

Harry looked at Prof. Dumbledore. He didn’t look puzzled, but he still looked rather tense. “Look at Prof. Dumbledore”, he said. “Its odd that he doesn’t look surprised – isn’t it? He looks almost like he knew this was going to happen.”

“Neither does her mother”, Hermione added. “Or Prof. McGonagall. That’s weird – why would she not be Sorted?”

“Maybe she’s a Squib, and she just got into Hogwarts because her mother was going to teach here”, Fred started, but shut up quickly as Prof. McGonagall shot sparks from her wand.

“Silence, please.”, she said, looking annoyed. “Omar, Syd…”

Syd Omar became a Ravenclaw, and the rest of the Sorting Ceremony continued without incident. Priya Manohar was still standing at the end of the line. When the last student, “Young, Penny” was sorted into Gryffindor, Prof. Dumbledore stood up.

“Miss. Manohar will join Gryffindor”, he announced. The rest of the Houses booed and hissed, and most of the Gryffindor students looked bewildered. They weren’t quite sure if they should be happy that Priya Manohar had become a Gryffindor. Hermione clapped hard, though, and she glared at Ron and Harry, who started clapping too, as Priya made her way over to the Gryffindor table. Fred cleared a spot for her, and congratulated her. Priya smiled calmly, she seemed completely unaffected by what had happened. “Thank you”, she said clearly.

“Start of term announcements”, Prof. Dumbledore announced, and they turned towards him to listen. “Firstly, for the benefit of the First-Years, no one is to enter the forest on the Hogwarts grounds. It is off-limits to all students”.

“Secondly”, he continued, “I have great pleasure in introducing Prof. Lakshmi Manohar, who has agreed to teach Defense Against Dark Arts.” The students clapped politely. “Prof. Manohar is visiting us from India this year, and I hope everyone will learn from her considerable Dark Arts knowledge. She will be teaching you how witches and wizards from the East defend themselves against the Dark Arts. ”

“Is that your mother, then?”, George asked Priya, who nodded. She didn’t seem excited that her mother would be teaching. Hermione looked excited.

Prof. Dumbledore cleared his throat. “The Fifth, Sixth and Seventh years must have noticed that the pages of your Defense Against Dark Arts textbook are blank. You would have also signed a magical contract stating that you will not share the book or lend the book to anyone. I don’t have to remind you, I hope that a magical contract is binding and irrevocable. The consequences of breaking it are many.”

“On a lighter note, the House Quidditch Championship is back this year, and Madam Hooch will conduct Quidditch Trials in two weeks. Please sign up with Madam Hooch if you are interested.”

“Now, I’m sure you are all hungry, so let’s eat!”

The dishes in front of them filled with food – chicken, steak and kidney pie, mashed potatoes, greens, steak, roast pork, and much more. Harry was starving, his meal on the train long digested, and he helped himself to everything, and started eating. Hermione was trying to carry on a conversation with Priya Manohar, he noticed, but Priya was very quiet. She answered when she was spoken to, but she didn’t seem in the mood for conversation.

After dinner, they all made their way upstairs. As they climbed the stairs, Harry realized that no one was talking to Priya. Lavender and Parvati were eyeing her suspiciously, and the new first-years were ignoring her totally. He felt sorry for her. That had been his fear too, he remembered, wondering what would happen if the Sorting Hat couldn’t Sort him in his First Year. Then Ron said something to him, and he forgot all about her. She’d manage, he thought. We all do.