“You’re in safe hands, though I have none, for I’m a thinking cap!”
The resultant applause echoed dimly in the truly enormous chamber. The four long tables looked almost empty, huge stretches standing bare as some fifty times as many students as were scattered across all four tables stood in line between them.
“How long do you think this is going to take?” someone at the Ravenclaw table mutters.
Another shrugs. “Donno. There’s gotta be a few thousand of them at least, so it’s gonna be a few hours.” Snort. “I suppose it’s a good thing the train was faster this time?” She glances up at the ceiling, bearing the light blue of the late afternoon sky.
“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” Professor McGonagall instructs tiredly, pretending the bags under her eyes aren’t even there as she steps forwards with a very long scroll. She drops the rolled up bottom of it, holding the top up to read.
At least one student already seated mutters “Uh-oh,” when the rolled bottom of the scroll hits the floor hard enough to make the dishes rattle.
Resigned, Professor McGonagall starts at the top. “Abacus, Golden.” An Equestrian.
A cheerful red-head works her way up to the front of the long line of first-years and accepts the hat. She turns around and tips it in salute to the four tables before putting it on her head.
“Gryffindor!” it announces, almost before it lands on her head.
Professor McGonagall allows herself a small smile of pride- the very first one went to her house- as the girl returns the hat to the stool, bows to her, and trots off to the Gryffindor table. Then, as she calls the next name on the list- “Abbot, Hannah”- she notices that the first years are muttering something amongst themselves.
As it turns out, Hannah was at the back of the line- so at someone’s comment, she heads around, trotting up between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables to reach the front rather than pushing her way through or around so many other students.
This is going to take all night, Professor McGonagall thinks.
After the third name is mentioned, this girl- another Equestrian- being near the front, a few calls go up somewhere in the crowd- and the first years start shuffling about. Fifteen minutes later, Professor McGonagall realizes the first years have formed a serpentine, single-file line in that gap- and that the last half dozen or so names have been from the very front. She reads the next name on the list. “Bonbon.”
As the girl walks calmly up to the stool, she notices something. Bonbon is wearing her prescribed school uniform, just like everyone else- but she’s wearing something else as well. There’s something else, clipped to the front of her robes, just below the point of her shoulder, opposite her nametag. It’s black, though it looks like it has differently-colored writing on it; she sees a spiral string of something black hanging down from it, dangling quickly to the side to slip in the front of her robes, from where it goes out of sight.
As the girl gets close, she realizes there’s another little string of black sticking up from her neckline, stopping right about at the point of her shoulder- from which there’s a spiral, transparent tube going up to her ear. She graciously accepts the hat, places it deftly on her head, and waits a half-second or so before seating herself on the stool.
The staff table sits as solid as stone, boring holes in the hat with their eyes. This is Bonbon, the one that had been working with Lyra in the Leaky Cauldron; Professor McGonagall, and the others that had gone to help muggleborn after that first day, had told the others about the pair.
All of the students at the tables start looking between Bonbon and the staff table with interest; none of the staff are hiding their expressions very well. As for Bonbon herself, she looks more amused than anything else, especially once a distant murmur is heard from amongst the first years.
Finally, the hat moves. “Slytherin!”
All of the staff, save Professor McGonagall who hides it decently well, groan. This is going to be an interesting year- especially if everyone’s expectations for Bonbon’s partner hold out.
Bonbon lifts the hat off her head, already offering it to the next girl in line, even before Professor McGonagall calls out the girl’s name- “Bones, Susan”. The girl had, despite not being an Equestrian, quickly picked up on what they were doing- and started coming as soon as the hat announced the House. As it is, Susan waits patiently for McGonagall to actually call her name before she puts the hat on her head.
Bonbon chuckles at the display as she walks calmly away, heading for the Slytherin table.
“So, the House of the Snakes, huh?” Lyra’s voice asks, through her earpiece.
She grins, one hand moving to press the button on her mic for her to speak into it. “Yeah, figured why not? It was the best match, after all.”
“Wait, what? You decided?”
She grins, reaching the Slytherin table and selecting her seat. “Yeah- the hat wasn’t sure, so it asked. He knows how to hold a good conversation, by the way. Too bad we hat to rush it.”
The sound of a facepalm comes over her headset, making her chuckle. “Just like you just hat to do that, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Which one are you going to?”
“Gryffindor, I think. The fit’s a lot stronger than yours to the snakes, so I don’t think it’s going to need to deliberate much. But in any case, I’ve got a good hour or two to wait.”
“Just remember not to drive the Gryffindors too crazy, alright?”
One of the Slytherins at the table- looks like a third year- is staring at her. “Who are you talking to?”
“Oh puh-lease, you’re almost certainly going to get some of the more interesting students over in your house. You’re going to have a lot more damage to limit.”
She smiles at the Slytherin. “A friend,” she answers, before going live on the mic again. “Yeah, says the lady that’s going to be ending up with Twilight. Really, Dissy and Luna are nothing compared to that.”
“What are you talking about?” the Slytherin asks.
She shrugs at the slytherin. “Stuff.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right, aren’t you?”
“This is going to be an interesting year,” she mutters into it.
Several laughs suddenly break out amongst the first years, drawing everyone’s attention.
“That it is, Bonnie. That it is.”
“Discord,” Snape calls. He’d rotated out with Professor McGonagall after the first half-hour; in another fifteen minutes, his half hour will end, and Professor Flitwick will take over reading from the scroll.
“Slytherin!” the hat calls.
Snape lowers the scroll to stare at it. Everyone else in the room stares at it. It’d only just barely landed on the stool; he’s been making sure to call the next name as quickly as possible after each student is sorted. Discord hasn’t even taken his first step yet.
The hat twitches, as if looking around the hall. “What?”
Discord steps out of line, chuckling. “Well, that was easy,” he states, before trotting towards the Slytherin table, whistling an upbeat drum solo.
“Heartstrings, Lyra,” Dumbledore announces. They’re a couple hours into the sorting, and he’s approaching the end of his turn- as a matter of fact, his turn technically ended ten minutes ago, but he saw Lyra’s name coming up. Professor McGonagall is next in line- but he’d asked her, through the castle wards, to remain seated.
Lyra trots cheerfully up to the stool, hardly tapping the hat on her head before it yells “Gryffindor!”
Then, as she returns the hat to the stool, she looks at Dumbledore’s scroll. “Would you like some help with that?” she asks, loud and clear.
The entire Great Hall goes silent.
Dumbledore stares at her for a second, processing the question. He’s starting to understand why McGonagall had collapsed during her first day meeting the two.
Then he smiles. She’s most definitely a Gryffindor- and if half the stories his professors are telling him are true, she’s more than capable of reading names from a list, and doing it well.
“Sure,” he answers, handing her the top of the scroll with a twinkle in his eye.
“What are you doing?” McGonagall asks him, through the wards.
“This should be amusing, if nothing else,” he answers her, also through the wards, as Lyra accepts the scroll and studies it for a second.
Then she studies the hat for a second, glances up at the first years still waiting, raises her hand to the black thing he hadn’t noticed hanging just below her shoulder on the front of her robes, and mutters into it. “Hit it.”
Then, as music starts somewhere, she starts calling off names- and the first years shuffle forwards quickly.
The entire staff, including Dumbledore, simply stare for at least a minute.
Finally, Professor McGonagall breaks the silence amongst the staff. “You’re right,” she mutters. “This is amusing.”
The hat is shouting almost constantly, to the beat of the music. “Hufflepuff- Gryffindor- Gryffindor- Ravenclaw- Slytherin- Ravenclaw- Hufflepuff- Slytherin- Gryffindor-!” In each of the gaps between, Lyra announces the name of the next student dropping the hat over their head, also to the music. Overall, she’s getting one student sorted every second.
There’s also a half-dozen more black-thing-wearing first-years keeping everyone straight on exactly where they’re headed. A couple of them aren’t sorted yet- but that turns out not to be a problem, as they simply insert themselves into the proper spot in the line as it shows up, get sorted, and immediately return to what they had been doing before.
The teachers watch as she keeps it up, pumping her way through the first-years.
Lyra’s been going at it for an hour when, suddenly, the line stops approaching the stool- and the helpers disappear as soon as they’re done with the last students they’re helping. The music also draws to a close- but only half the first years have been sorted.
Dumbledore blinks as Lyra waits patiently, while students finish clearing the head of the room. He’s about to rise, to ask her what’s wrong and perhaps take over again, when she speaks up again- and he instantly knows why.
“Luna, Princess.”
Students all across the room gasp, even before the girl starts moving, her black robes and dark hair billowing like midnight behind her. She marches up to the stool like a queen- then kneels before Lyra, who places the sorting hat on her head. Then Lyra draws a sword she most certainly didn’t have a moment before, laying the flat of the blade on the girl’s shoulder.
“I name you,” the hat begins, as Lyra moves the sword to her other shoulder. “Slytherin!”
Then Lyra sheathes the sword in its jeweled midnight scabbard and presents it to Luna, bowing as the girl takes it, replacing it graciously with the sorting hat before she goes billowing off to the Slytherin table, sword disappearing into her robes, amid roaring applause.
Then the helpers are back, the music is playing, and everything’s moving again.