Welcome Feast

It was a good thing Adelaide Goshawk had never believed in Omens, because if she did, it would have been hard to ignore the flashing lightning and booming thunder that had arrived with the start of term this year. The first Friday of September had dawned cloudy and grey, the Autumn rain turning soon into a respectable thunderstorm as wet, shivering students hurried into the Great Hall for warmth and protection. The first years, having made their traditional journey by boat, seemed all but one with the merpeople.

And yet the outside weather had not dared touch the fiery haired Headmistress where she sat, right at the center of the high staff table on her throne like chair. The only thing different about the table this year was how much it had shrunk. Last year's project of doing away with unnecessary teachers and hiring ones who would instill discipline had gone almost perfectly.

On her right sat the aging Runes Professor, now occupying the prestigious seat of Assistant Head. The blue banner on the back of his seat showing his additional status as Head of Ravenclaw House. Beside Professor Kessler sat Jake Newbury, a similar banner draping the back of his chair albeit in screaming scarlet. To her left, the resident potion master gazed out at the students in silence, a contrast to the only other female at the table who waved cheerily from her own seat as Professor of History and Head of Hufflepuff House.

When all the students had gathered, Adelaide rose fluidly to her feet, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. "Welcome, one and all, to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They say time is the greatest test of any institution's strength and so here we are, among the strongest for having stood well over a thousand years old." Her speechwriters had developed a flair for the dramatics it seemed, still the woman continued, knowing how this game was played.

"But with our strengths, we must also identify areas in which we can still improve. And of the people without whom we would not be here today. I would like to take this moment to address two very special students who could not be with us today. Gryffindor Prefects Max Hollingberry and Primrose Seele. The two were bright, young students who had immense potential. Their only mistake was not following the school rules. Both their bodies were found in the Forbidden Forest last June. Our thoughts and prayers are with their families but we should also take this as a reminder of the very real ramification of going against school policies."

Adelaide paused, the PR nightmare caused bu the kid's deaths had been a nightmare, luckily now it would be the Runes' Professor's job to answer questions about the grisly murders. "A full list of school rules can be found in your student handbook as well as in the trophy room. If you are unsure of anything, I'm confident our librarian, Mr. Hughes, would love nothing more than to be of assistance." With that, the Headmistress turned to the group of shuddering first years in the corner.

"And now, let the sorting begin!"

Looking at those teachers gathered near the head of the great hall Andrei found himself reminded of a term that was so often misused, decimation. Most people used the word when they wanted to describe complete and utter destruction. However, the word itself really meant, roughly, to reduce by ten percent. Interestingly, it could be traced back to a Roman army tradition in which men would draw lots and those who drew the short straws would be purged from the army. In theory, this practice served to improve morale and looking at the barebones staff the older man understood why: he didn't want to be the next one to go.

So, while the headmistress spoke, he tried his best to look interested and attentive. Of course, this was only a facade as he already knew everything being announced. That said, he once more found himself impressed with how inept Goshawk was with children. Instead of easing into the announcement of the student deaths she cut right to it and tried to hammer home some frivolous lesson on rule following. The whole thing rang hollow for the runes professor and left a bad taste in his mouth that the chicken in front of him simply couldn't shake.

I doubt she could have picked Hollingberry or Seele out of a line up if she had to...

Thankfully, the energy of the great hall soon shifted as first years came up to the front of the large room one at a time. This time Andrei's interest was genuine as he leaned forward in his seat and stopped picking at his food. The sorting ceremony had always fascinated the man and tonight's was special for him.

A tall lanky boy with straw for hair took a seat and Andrei held his breath. It seemed to him that time stood still for a few heartbeats until the old hat made its judgment...

"Nikolai...Nikolai..." the hat mused aloud. "A good name...Yesss, you'll fit right in to..."

The hat paused with its usual flair for the dramatic.

"...SLYTHERIN!!"

A small wave of claps rippled from the far side of the great hall.

Allowing himself to breathe once more, Andrei added his clapping to the chorus perhaps doing so for a bit longer than Nikolai would have liked as his son shot him an annoyed look before stalking off to the Slytherin table.

Had Andrei hoped his son would join him in Ravenclaw?

Yes.

Was he disappointed with the result?

Not a chance.

He loved his son more than words could express and wanted nothing but the best for him. The old sorting hat always seemed to have a good sense of people and where they belonged. Funny how it worked really; somehow the crazy old thing just knew and who was Andrei to argue with it?

Mercy was exhausted. The initial adrenaline rush of the train station and her reunion with Mimosa having passed, her body persistently resumed reminding her that last night had been a full moon. As her friends were led off with the other first year students toward the lake, Mercy followed the crowd of older students toward the carriages. She barely registered that the carriages seemed to drive themselves (hey, it was a magic school, anything was possible), before she plopped down on one of the seats and nearly passed out.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the headache blossoming behind her forehead. The next thing she knew, they were pulling up to the school, and she slowly forced her eyes open and clambered out of her carriage, following the other students through the doors and into the Great Hall. She shook her head slightly and blinked hard. She had to pay attention! She couldn't miss her best friend's sorting!

Sliding into a seat at the Gryffindor table, she yawned, but turned her attention toward the headmistress as she stood to address the hall. Well, sort of. She missed the first part, staring blankly at the older woman as her words flew straight over her head. She tuned in just before the headmistress mentioned Max and Prim, and, the young girl's emotions being in a rather fragile state, a sudden lump formed in her throat at the mention of their names.

She'd forgotten about them, at least momentarily. She'd heard of their deaths at the very end of the last school year, or maybe the beginning of the summer, she couldn't quite remember. It was a shock at first. Just the fact that anyone had died would have been a shock, but Max and Prim? They were in her house. She'd known them, at least a little bit. In fact, Max was, if she remembered correctly, the first person she had met at Hogwarts. She couldn't believe he was gone. She'd cried intermittently for about a week after she'd heard--it didn't help that, like now, it had been around the time of her transformation, and her emotions had been all over the place.

Now she was reminded of them once again, and she could feel her eyes start to sting, so she wiped her sleeve across her face and looked down at her empty plate. She missed everything the headmistress said after that. She only looked back up when the sorting started.

She clapped for each student at first, but her hands quickly grew tired, so she ended up only clapping for the Gryffindors along with the rest of her table. When Dia was sorted into Gryffindor, Mercy clapped especially hard, throwing in a short "Woot!" as well, and making room for the younger witch beside her.

She kept her eyes trained on Mimosa, after picking her out from the huddled mass of first years standing at the front of the room. After Dia, whose last name was Grey, Mercy knew Mimosa's name should be called soon. She listened attentively as the librarian got to the H's...and then he went past them, and Mimosa was still standing. Wait a minute... Mercy's muddled brain struggled to comprehend what was happening. Her last name is Harrington, and they're going alphabetically, aren't they? So why...?

Her brows furrowed as the sorting continued, and she watched the group of first years slowly dwindle. Her best friend was still standing there, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

And then the last name was called, and Mimosa was all alone, standing at the front of the room, unsorted. She looked mortified, and so did Mercy. The young Gryffindor looked back and forth between her best friend and the librarian who was rolling up the scroll full of names. He must have missed her. She had to do something. She couldn't let her friend just stand there.

Mercy pushed herself to her feet, lips parted and breath drawn, ready to shout...well, something, to get the librarian's attention and come to her friend's aid. Her voice caught in her throat though, as Mimosa raised her hand and did it for herself.

Mercy waited with bated breath as Mimosa whispered something in the man's ear. And then he shouted, "CLEMENT, MIMOSA," and Mimosa rushed over to the Sorting Hat and jammed it on her head a moment before it yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" and she all but ran to the table decked out in green on the other side of the room.

At this point, Mercy realized she was still standing, and the  younger witch on her right--Bushrah?--was giving her a funny look. She sat back down on the bench rather clumsily and stared through the two tables separating her from Mimosa, searching for her friend's face.

She was so confused. Wasn't her last name Harrington? It definitely wasn't Clement. Wasn't that the name of the guy who escorted her to the Halloween Ball? Why would she lie? And why wasn't her name on the list in the first place?

Mercy barely noticed when the food appeared and the feast started. She kept staring at the Slytherin table, trying to catch Mimosa's eye. They needed to talk as soon as possible. Mercy had no idea what was going on, but tonight had been an unexpected roller coaster of an evening--and the fact that her best friend had been sorted into what was historically her house's rival house? Honestly, that seemed like the least of their worries at the moment.

The train ride only was making Dominique more excited. She knew what was going to happen. As she knew that they had to take boats to Hogwarts. And that was only for the first year students. As her mother's told her this. She had gotten separated from her best friend. But she knew that they were going to end up in the same place. So she wasn’t all that worried. As she made a new friend who she shared a boat with. Now came the most important, they had to be sorted into their houses. Dom knew that any house would be great. But she wanted to be at one with her best friends. And she knew that Mercy was in Gryffindor. And she knew that Mim would be in Gryffindor as well. Her mother also told her that she could choose. It wasn’t all up to the sorting hat.

Grey, Dominique

Her name was called and she started to get nervous. As she made her way to the seat, the hat placed on her head. She was trying not to worry. But then the hat called out Gryffindor. That was her mother house. But that is when she ran over to the table and sat down beside of Mercy. Now she was just waiting on Mim.

It was raining, not something that uncommon in these parts, but if the young boy's scowl was anything to go by one would think that the weather had personally decided on a torrential rain just to torment him specifically. Having not want to look at the outside scenery, Gaspard had drawn the shade on the train. It wasn't as if they'd have been able to make much out in the darkness, not with the train lights illuminating so brightly and reflecting off the glass windows. So why bother? Nor had he been able to hear the start of the rain over the incessant chatter and noise of the children on the train as well as the locomotive itself. It had been quite a nasty shock to exit the train to find that the weather had turned sour and depositing its wrath on the unsuspecting students.

Glancing around him, the boy's expression darkened as he realized that a certain flighty girl was nowhere in sight. She had somehow managed to get his jacket from him and he had been brought up with too much manners to demand it back. He would at a later date request that she give back the borrowed item even if it would have come in handy right now. Instead, the boy had to make due with pulling the hood of his cloak about him and his mind starting a rather scathing letter to the board of governors at the glaring lack of foresight of the temperamental weather and the lack of suitable attire to combat it. Since Mimosa had scarpered off with his jacket and unable to go fetch another from his trunk, Gaspard made another mental note to add a parka or at least a garbage bag to his kit as an emergency use poncho.

Longingly, he stared at the carriages as the older students left in them before he sullenly followed the other first years. As he stared at the ancient boats he groused under his breath about ancient traditions needing to die. There was mutterings about getting hypothermia, bronchitis, pneumonia, and several other unflattering things and about adults lacking grey matter when it came to certain things. Resigned to having to take the 'scenic' route, the preteen clasped his cloak as tightly as he could about him as he could and tried to think of anything but the motion of the water and how his stomach wanted to rebel and add its contents to the already questionable body of water. He was miserable and his eyes glittered with irritation and hostility.

It was surprising that no one had died on one of these little ventures, but Gaspard wouldn't put it past a cover up if someone had only come close to dying but had actually survived this insanity. Once he was safely on land again, he vowed that if it was the traditional way back at the end of the year he would find a way to get about one of the carriages. Either that or he would walk!

Having collected himself and forced his stomach to calmness, Gaspard was able to go where he was supposed to and wait shivering with the others. Once again, he failed to see how any of this was beneficial. While they were waiting to be sorted and the Headmistresses to stop speaking, the boy was wringing out his clothes wishing he'd paid more attention to his parents' cleaning charms. It would have been quite useful to know the spell to dry off. As it was, he removed his sopping wet cloak with a look of disgust and let it hang from a limp hand as his head snapped up to look at the woman. His attention had been caught at the mention of deaths. Eyes narrowing and his brows drawing together, he waiting for more information and frowned slightly when none was forthcoming. If they had a forest that was off limits and dangerous, then why build a ruddy school next to it? Or for that matter, keep whatever was dangerous in there in the first place? Wards and such could only do so much.

Seeing as that was that, Gaspard sighed. It looked like he'd have to use some of his pocket money to subscribe to some newspapers. Perhaps his parents would send him some back issues when he wrote to them after they send their first letter? Only half listening to the sorting, he went back to trying to wring out as much water as he could from his clothes uncaring if it caused even more of a huge puddle then the students were already making just by letting their clothes drip. It was the school faculty's fault if a student slipped since they didn't even offer to help the children out.

It wasn't until his name was called that the boy walked up to the stool confidently head held high as if he didn't have his insides twisting themselves into knots. His cloak tailed along in his wake as he dragged it leaving a water trail. Once on the stool, he braced himself and stiffened as he felt the hat begin to descend and tried to hold back his cringe not really wanting the thing on his head. Thankfully, it had only gone part of the way down when it stated it knew just what to do with him and screamed out Ravenclaw. Actual confidence restored, the boy more easily made his way to the bronze and blue house, his shoes squelching all the way. Once seated, he looked back at those yet to be sorted and actually found Mimosa and his brow went up rather curious about where she would go. But then he began to frown when after everyone was called she was left standing alone. And no one seemed to notice until she spoke up. He was sure that his surprise was evident just as it was to others about how curious it was her name wasn't on the list and yet here she was.

When her name was finally called and she was sorted to Slytherin, the boy gazed at her and then about the others at his table when there was a buzz about the girl's last name. He'd have to find out of course. And once again, he sighed. He had just known he shouldn't have spoken and just left Mimosa be when they had first met.