//------------------------------// // The Sorting // Story: Defence Against the Dark Arts // by Everythingpossible //------------------------------// That night, after the banquet, Luna ascended the Grand Staircase, swerving around the multiple stairways swinging from landing to landing at precarious speed. The students, confined to terrestrial transportation, and the portraits, confined within their frames, looked on enviously. Eventually, she reached the seventh floor, where she found the former broom closet she inhabited in a previous life still furnished with the accouterments of a bedroom. Just as she was about to plunge into the cozy depths of the featherbed, however, she noticed a folded piece of yellowed parchment left on a side table. She magically summoned it to inspect, reading the note contained therein by the faint candlelight. Sighing, she set the paper down and trotted back out the door, distraught at yet another interruption of her nightly somnolence. “You wanted to see me, Headmaster?” Professor Dumbledore looked up from his desk. Luna was standing in, or rather leaning against the wide doorway. “How did you get into my office?” he said, bemused. “The password is ‘Turkish Delight’,” she said. “I’m not that easy to fool.” “Fair enough” he said, looking down again at various papers scattered in front of him. “Have a seat.” She did as she was told, trotting over to one of the colossal leather chairs positional facing the Headmaster’s ancient, oaken bureau, awkwardly fitting her equine frame into a shape designed for one more bipedal than her. Dumbledore said nothing, concentrating on the paperwork. The end of his snow-white quill danced with the motion of his thin, leathery hand. Luna patiently waited for a minute, two minutes, five minutes, until the last drop of her persistence was evaporated. She coughed rather loudly and rather theatrically, to gain the professor’s attention. “Do you know why you are here, Luna?” he said, still writing. “Um… performance review?” she said. Dumbledore drew his eyes away from his work, taking off his spectacles to focus his attention on the midnight-blue pony seated across from him. “Since you’ve arrived here, you’ve injured multiple students, nearly castrated one, destroyed Hogwarts property, and generally inflicted terror upon the student population as a whole” he said in a matter-of-fact way. “I run a very… interactive classroom”. “If I wanted to get rid of you,” he said, cracking the faintest of smiles, “You’d have been kicked out long ago.” “Frankly, Albus, I think I’d be rather difficult to remove.” A tremor rolled across his face, and the crack broke into a grin. “I think I could find a way.” Luna, finding the extreme discomfort of the chair unbearable, sprung out of it, gracefully landing on the floor on the ornate rug that lay in front of the desk. “So tell me,” she said, leaning forward until her muzzle floated inches from Dumbledore’s furrowed visage, “Why am I here?” “Professor Flitwick has retired.” Luna was bewildered. She hadn’t known Filius Flitwick well, only seeing him occasionally at the dinner table and in the staff room. He was the one that first found her in the Ravenclaw chambers, dozing in one of the students’ beds after falling through a trans-dimensional sinkhole. Filius was a short, passionate man, Hogwarts’ longtime Charms professor. “Why?” Dumbledore sighed. “Personal reasons, he said. He’s over sixty—” “You’re 116.” Luna interjected. “—and looking to travel more,” he continued, ignoring her comment. “Spend more time with his wife. Usual reasons.” “So… you need a new Charms professor?” she said, a bit confused as to why he would offer her a job that paid slightly less than her current one. Perhaps it was a demotion. “No,” Dumbledore said, “I have already found his replacement. However, Ravenclaw is now without a Head.” “You mean….” “I’d like you to fill the position.” She was filled with a sudden rapture, a strange combination of ecstasy and shock, like being hit with a freight train made of puppies. It really wasn’t anything she was expecting. It was a promotion, yes, but it was something more. Professors came and went at Hogwarts, but the position of Head of House was a perennial occupation, bestowed upon only the most trusted of professors. Dumbledore wasn’t just giving her a raise (he actually wasn’t paying her at all), he was inviting her to stay. Permanently. “Why me?” she asked. “Why not?” Dumbledore said jovially. “You’re certainly the most experienced faculty member here, not to mention the oldest.” “Gee, thanks.” “Nonetheless, Ravenclaw is the House of Knowledge, and I believe that you present that quality more than any other professor.” “It wasn’t the fact that I’m also the only professor who happens to be blue?” she said sardonically. Dumbledore let out a sincere chuckle, grasping his chest. He cleared his throat. “There is, however, one condition.” “Oh?” “Yes, it’s not much, but it’s required by The Code” he said, referring to the ancient Hogwarts Code, the document on which the academy is founded, authored jointly by the four founders of the institution. “What is it?” “Oh, it’s nothing, really. You will see.” “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”. She was standing in the Great Hall, reluctantly seated on a comically small stool, designed for a human child approximately five thousand years younger than she. The morning just was just stepping over the Scottish Highland to assume its position in the heavens, soaking the sky around a peculiar shade of pink. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Sprout stood in a row between two long tables below. An ancient and dilapidated pointed hat rested in the Headmaster’s arms. “I’m very sorry you have to do this, but a Head of House must be of the same House. It’s in the Hogwarts Code” Dumbledore replied. “Since you never attended school here, it’s a necessary prerequisite.” “Fine” Luna said, snorting with disgust. Nodding, Dumbledore walked forwards towards her, up the steps to the raised dais. Slowly, he placed the Sorting Hat upon her head. The massive brim covered her horn and ears, and finally rested just above her eyes, which looked disdainfully towards the other Heads of House. “Mmmmm….” the hat said through a crease in its coarse fabric. “Powerful one, this. Strange. Yes….. I’ve never seen one like this. Most…. interesting….” “Hurry up, willya?” Luna said, impatiently. “Impatient, yes, this one. All the necessary qualities. Brave. Intelligent. Loyal. Clever. But, which one most prevalent. An interesting question, yes….” “I don’t have all day, y’know.” “Better be….. Slytherrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrravenclaw!” “What?” McGonagall said. “Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw! Yes, definitely Ravenclaw!” the hat replied, almost too enthusiastically. Luna grinned. “Can I take this thing off now?” she said, half anxious and half excited. “Yes,” Dumbledore said. The hat became enveloped by a cloud of blue, and gracefully flew back into his hands. “Strange, though. I’ve never seen the hat change its mind.” he added, provokingly. “Yes, funny, that” Luna said, looking off to the side, teeth clenched. “Should we try again? An error, perhaps?” Snape said, turning to Dumbledore. “I feel that I may have heard it say ‘Slytherin’.” “No, no,” he said, dismissively. “In all my years as Headmaster, this hat has never made an incorrect Sorting”. Snape sighed. “Ravenclaw it is.” Luna jumped off of the stool, grinning. “I suppose,” Dumbledore said, “that we have a new Head of House.” Luna beamed with excitement, pronking gaily about the room. “Perhaps you would like to inform the students?” he said, addressing the hopping mare. “Oh… yes, certainly,” she said, resuming a manner more fit for a figure of royalty such as herself. Smiling embarrassedly, she gently cantered out the huge doors leading to the hallway. Professor Snape waited, watching for the pony to leave the room. As soon as the sound of hoofbeats disappeared into the distance, he turned urgently to Professor Dumbledore. “Are you certain, Headmaster,” he said, accusatorially, “that the verdict was correct? It would not be the first time the Hat has been tampered with.” “Oh, I’m very much sure she did tamper with it” he said, nonchalantly. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” Snape said, struggling not to scream at Dumbledore. “It does not matter. Just a formality, really.” “A Slytherin cannot be the head of Ravenclaw House.” “Princess Luna possesses all the knowledge of a Ravenclaw, the bravery of a Gryffindor, the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, and the ingenuity of a Slytherin. The Hat merely selected which of these traits was represented the most strongly.” “But a true Slytherin belongs in Slytherin House.” “Would you have me give her your job, professor?” “Of course not, Headmaster. I only desire that which is best for the School.” “As do I. Do not worry about Luna, I am sure she will be fine.” “One more thing, Headmaster–” Snape said, taking a step towards the centenarian wizard just as he was walking towards the door. “Would it be reasonable to think that Professor Flitwick’s resignation may not have been of his own volition?” “What do you mean, Professor Snape?” said Dumbledore, turning around to look quizzically at him. “I mean that someone–” he said, “may have forced his retirement.” “Nonsense.” Dumbledore insisted. “Professor Flitwick approached me personally at the end of last term. He told me personally that if she were to return, that I was to name her as his successor.” “Why would he do that?” “He admires her. As do I. As should you.” “I do not… admire the princess.” Snape stated, “I tolerate her.” “She is quite churlish at times, I will admit,” Dumbledore confessed. “However” he added, “She is millennia older than any of us, and wise beyond her years.” “I recognise that she is wise, Albus—” Snape said, pausing. “But is she fit to be an educator? Her methods are… crude, to be polite.” “Sometimes the greatest truth is that which is unrefined.” “Of course, Headmaster. I apologise” he said, and swiftly turned around, walking briskly out the open doors into the morning. Dumbledore grinned, and followed the Potions master out of the Great Hall. A lightning-fast streak of midnight blue was still flying jubilantly about the castle.