Pre-Hogwarts History
Like so many children, eleven year old Emalthya Lovell was a very big fan of the Harry Potter children’s books. Since reading the books, her imagination took flight and she wished deeply that the world on the pages was real. She went so far as to check her letter box every day when she returned from school for her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. It had seemed to her a beautiful stroke of luck when she and her mother, May, moved to London after May accepted a job offer. The pay was more than she was used to, but the higher costs of living in London meant that they were very little better off. May, however, enjoyed living in a new place and was pleased to allow her daughter to have a taste of a different kind of life. Emalthya now attended a Catholic school with her school fees partially paid by her grandmother, her father’s mother.
Of her father, Emalthya saw very little, even before the move. She sometimes wondered if he even remembered he had a child. She didn’t feel this was her problem, however, and so she made up her mind to ignore his absence as she imagined he ignored her existence.
The Letter
One damp and cold afternoon, she returned home from school to the flat she shared with her mother to find the post boxes for the flats, usually home to pigeons or sparrows, home to a different kind of bird altogether. The owl, seemingly drowsing on top of the boxes, slowly came out of its restful state upon seeing Emalthya’s wide eyes peering up at it. It, however, seemed not to like being stared at, and it shook its feathers back into sleek place and took off out of the doorway alcove, its talon kicking at the top of the post boxes. Emalthya watched it fly away in awe; she had never seen an owl so close before. She looked back up at where it had perched and saw the edge of a letter. She jumped up and caught it with the tips of her fingers, knocking it to the floor. She eagerly picked it up and felt the thick, creamy parchment it was made of and saw that it was addressed to her in slanting green writing. Her letter to Hogwarts; arrived at long, long last.
She would have screamed if she were capable of doing anything and instead stood stock still. Eventually, the chill of the English spring took hold of her and she hurriedly went inside the building and leaped up the stairs leading to her flat two at a time.
The letter inside the envelope was perfect in every degree. It was everything she imagined her letter would be and more. It smelled mysterious and she devoured every carefully written word, even the book list. She felt like the luckiest girl in the world. What an amazing, thoughtful gift! It was the best gift for a girl so into Harry Potter. She wondered if her mother had ordered it from some website, but then maybe not. Perhaps it was from her father? It would be easy for him to get her such a thing and send it to her, easier than another gift. He hadn’t bought her anything for her birthday yet. Emalthya kissed the middle nose of the three-headed dog which had been the last gift from him. She couldn’t say he didn’t know she was a Harry Potter book fan. Then again, she supposed she should just ask her mother when she got home and learn who it was from then.
Of course, Emalthya was forgetting about the owl. She had not seen the owl deliver the letter; just that it was roosting on the post boxes in the alcove protecting the front door from rain (unless it was driving) and snow (unless it was deep) and wind (unless it was very strong). It seemed too fantastic that an owl had delivered the letter. It was probably a coincidence that it was sitting on the letter while waiting for someone to come.
But May had no clue what Emalthya was talking about when she returned home from work. When she saw the letter herself, she was impressed by its craftsmanship but also concerned; she would not have chosen to send this letter to her daughter. She was worried at the amount of times Emalthya had read those books- the third one was falling to pieces and it only months old! She smiled in a strained way, nodded at the letter and how nice it was. She told Emalthya to put it in a safe place as she’d want to keep it for ever and ever. She managed to hold her feelings in until Emalthya's bedtime.
When Emalthya was asleep, May lit a cigarette and went out onto the balcony to smoke it. She had been trying to quit for years, but they helped her cope when she was stressed. She was glad she seemed to be the only one out; flats were not very private places to live. May had not liked the idea of living so close to other people, but there was not a lot of choice in this sardine-can city. After the first cigarette was flicked for the last time and crushed into the iron railings, May flipped open her address book and began dialling on her phone.
It was three more cigarettes before she got the person she wanted to speak to and had calmed down enough to interrogate him. She had called around to find the number for Douglas, her ex-partner and Emalthya’s father. Conversations with him, she felt, were best avoided but she had to know if this letter was from him, some kind of ploy devised by him or his conniving-when-she-wanted-to-be mother.
Douglas almost mono syllabically stated that he was not the origin of the letter to his daughter. While he did not say it explicitly, he implied that he thought it was a silly idea for him to spend time and money on a child he didn’t see. In the end, he was annoyed that he was being bothered by the likes of her and she was annoyed that she had thought calling him was a good idea in the first place. Hanging up the phone and lighting a cigarette with the stub of the last one, she leaned against the sliding glass doors and tried to release the tension in her shoulders and face. This letter could have come from anywhere, some charity that sends out letters to Harry potter fans, maybe it was done through the school… though it was a Catholic school and those places didn’t really encourage the Harry Potter fantasy. Emalthya could have unwittingly signed herself up to a Harry Potter fan website and they sent this letter out to her. The only thing May felt she did know was that her ex did not send it. She resolved to put it out of her mind unless anyone called for money or information, like the Reader’s Digest people sometimes did. Either way, she thought, it’s a very good letter.
Emalthya dutifully left the letter inside her favourite hard cover book, despite her dear wish to take it to school and show everyone. She did tell everyone about it, however, much to the disapproval of the teachers. They seemed to share May’s concern that Emalthya was becoming too obsessed with Harry Potter. They consoled themselves that after this year, she might not be their problem. It was well-known to them that she was the child of a single parent and struggled to pay school fees. She probably would be shopping around for a different school for high school. So they frowned and shook their heads but stayed silent.
May was relieved when she asked Emalthya about the high schools she might like to join and had a thoughtful answer instead of an insistence that she would go to Hogwarts. It was only then that May knew for certain that Emalthya did not believe the letter was real.
Diagon Alley
It was closing in on decision time for the school Emalthya would soon attend when she and May went out to the cinema. They walked from the Underground into the heart of London. Emalthya gabbled with excitement about the film they would see, proudly saying for all to hear that she would be buying the popcorn. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at the shop beside them.
“That place looks cool. Can we go in?”
May was confused. They were standing in between a bank and a hairdresser’s. “You want a haircut?” she asked slowly.
“No, just to look,” said Emalthya, taking her mother’s hand and leading her through a door which did not lead to the hairdresser’s or the bank. They were in a dingy pub. From the outside, it looked moderately cleaner than the pubs Emalthya had seen so far in London. It reminded her of the pub she used to have raspberry lemonades in with her Nanna and Pa back at home. Inside, it smelled about the same, like stale beer and greasy counter meals, but the clientele was vastly different.
Instead of elderly men and a few elderly women congregating around the bar to chat to old friends about stories each had heard a thousand times, there were people having lunch at tables unadorned with Tatts Keno gambling papers, their chairs, crowded by bags with odd bulges, and single patrons sitting at the bar ordering drinks Emalthya could put no name to; they certainly weren’t beers.
As Emalthya gazed around curiously and May stared uncomfortably, wondering how long she should give it before she could usher Emalthya out of this pub which she had never noticed before, a lady dressed in green with many faded ruffles smiled at the girl with yellow stained teeth.
“First year at Hogwarts, darling?”
Emalthya grinned broadly. “That’s what my letter says!” She turned to her mother. “They must all read the books, too.” Emalthya believed that everyone in the pub was pretending to be a witch or wizard and this kind of pretending made perfect sense to her, like when people dressed up at Halloween in other countries, or did re-enactments, or most of the things done outside Windsor Castle.
May was slower to come to this conclusion, but eventually she settled on it as the only one which made sense. There were some crazies in the world, after all.
“Do you need to get things off your school list?” asked the landlady kindly.
“I didn’t bring it,” said Emalthya. “We’re going to the pictures today.”
“Oh,” said the landlady. Now she was confused. Someone who could come into the pub must be magical, but these didn’t seem like magical people. The child had a letter but was not anxious to get their school things? Never happened before. But everyone was different. “Well, it’s nice to have you with us, how about you have some lunch here? Complimentary,” she said with a nod to May.
“Yes,” said May, to Emalthya’s delight. They sat down and a young man in a half apron came to take their order.
The landlady disappeared out into her office and had a quick conversation in the fire. When she returned, Emalthya and May already had their meals. May was commenting on the speed of the service but her glances to her watch were becoming more frequent. They would miss the film at this rate.
“Here you are, dear,” said the landlady to Emalthya. She had a stack of envelopes in her hands. “I have copies of the school letters. Which one is yours?”
Emalthya flipped through the envelopes before finding one addressed to her. “This one! Thanks.”
The landlady tucked the other letters into her apron. “You can get your school things, then.”
“Get them where?” asked May with growing suspicion.
“I’ll show you when you’ve finished your meals, please don’t let me rush you.” The landlady left them and tended the quiet bar while Emalthya and May ate. Emalthya shovelled her food down so she could see what else would happen faster. Her mother was past hunger and left her meal unfinished. When they stood, the landlady showed them out the back to what may had expected to be the beer garden, which was in fact a dim courtyard with a stone arch in the wall leading to…
“Amazing!” cried Emalthya, dashing over the divide between the pub and Diagon Alley. She was past questioning the reality of the situation and was committed to enjoying herself without wondering if this place was real or not. That way, she was sure, lay madness.
May herself was creeping over the line between confusion and scepticism to pure enjoyment. She thanked the landlady and followed her daughter into the alley. Neither of them noticed the wall brick itself back up.
Emalthya and May wove in and out of the random shops of the alley, all thoughts of attending a film today forgotten. This place was more interesting than a film. They were attracting attention from the other shoppers, but honestly couldn’t have cared less. The items in the shops were charging magical money, while all they had were pounds and pence, but neither of them saw anything worth asking about, until they came to the wand shop.
As Emalthya looked around Ollivander’s shop, she could not imagine a more exact representation of the shop from the books. The wands piled on the shelves, the great age of the furnishings, the dust and decor, even the spindly chair; all were precise beyond her imaginings. She squeaked when she heard the creaking, whispering voice of the proprietor,
“Starting Hogwarts this year?”
“M-my letter,” Emalthya stammered, proffering it in her hand.
Ollivander took one look at the letter and, recognising it by sight, waved it away. He beckoned his customers to the counter and levelled his piercing gaze at both mother and daughter. “You’re not from here?” he asked May bluntly.
“No, we’re from-“ began May.
Ollivander nodded and hurried into the tall shelves of wands behind the counter and they heard his muttered response. “Yes, of course, my memory is not that bad that I would forget a client…” It made sense to Ollivander, as he selected wand after wand, that he would not recognise the lady if he had not sold her a wand, and if she was not a British native, then she must have bought her wand from somewhere else. The pile of boxes on Ollivander’s arms was very large as he began placing them on the counter, but, to Emalthya’s disappointment, he whittled them down to a selection of only six.
“Now, I think this one,” he said, picking up a box and sliding off the lid. Inside was a dark wand. “Try.”
Emalthya held it and swished it with a grin at her mother. As she expected, nothing happened.
“No problem, no problem,” assured Ollivander, putting it back in the box and selecting another. The next wand was honey coloured and it too did nothing. The third wand was rosy and may have been a twig for all the magic it did. Emalthya could have waved wands all day, but her mother was becoming bored.
When the yew wand’s box opened, Emalthya was taken with what she saw. If she could have any wand, it would be this wand. Ollivander described it as yew, thirteen inches, slightly springy with a core of dragon heartstring.
“So a dragon had to die for this wand?” asked Emalthya, her fingers twitching back from grasping the wand handle.
“Dragons are humanely culled when they pose a danger to humans,” explained Ollivander, his creepy voice taking on soothing tones. “We take materials from dragons which must be killed, not kill them for their materials.
Only slightly mollified, Emalthya picked up the yew wand. It made her fingertips buzz and her palm tingle and she waved her arm. Lights shone from nowhere, refracting off the dust motes in the air. Emalthya laughed, May gasped and Ollivander began putting the other wands away. Emalthya waved her arm again and the lights strengthened like the sun, and then a spotlight before bursting like an old light bulb and an explosive bang reverberated around the store. May shielded her face and Emalthya crouched low on the ground, protectively curled around her wand with her left arm around her face.
“Nothing to worry about,” said Ollivander lightly. “That is a powerful wand and you will need to show great care. Now for today that will be eleven galleons.”
May opened her purse and for once was disappointed at the pound notes inside.
Ollivander peered at the foreign money. “You can get that money changed in Gringott’s down the alley. Don’t worry, dear,” he said to Emalthya, “I will keep your wand safe for you.”
“Thank you!” said Emalthya, sliding her wand back into its box on the counter.
Back out on the street, Emalthya and May headed towards the white marble building. “That must be Gringott’s,” explained Emalthya. “Look!” she pointed to the doors as they started up the wide steps. “They might have the words!
“Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take but do not earn
Must pay most dearly in their turn
“Uh… not sure of the rest, but…
“And if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.”
They approached the doors to find Emalthya had been very close and she beamed with pride. It was all very convincing. May suddenly thought that these people had far too much time on their hands.
Inside Gringott’s, they saw row after row of… Emalthya couldn’t decide if they were puppets or animatronics or even people in costumes. They certainly looked like goblins. One of them showed Emalthya and May over to a nearby counter.
“Muggle money?” asked the cashier at the counter.
“Yes,” said May, her purse in her hand again. She didn’t carry a lot of cash and she wondered about the exchange rate, but at this stage she was so swept up in the excitement of this over-the-top spectacle. She would not be taking her daughter home without something to remember it by.
Emalthya stared at the goblin with wide eyes. “Hi,” she said shyly. She looked at her mother, and at the purse and realised that they probably would be spending the movie money on her wand. She pulled out her Harry Potter merchandise wallet and emptied a pile of silver coins on top of the notes May had laid on the counter.
“I thought you were buying the popcorn,” said May.
“This is better,” insisted Emalthya.
This seemed to warm the goblin up to them. His long, knobbly fingers moved swiftly, counting out the notes and coins faster than Emalthya could on her best day. He slid the pound notes though a small mangle to straighten out the kinks (and, Emalthya noticed, the money came out much brighter and cleaner) before he piled then into an old wooden till. With their money deposited, the goblin, his dark eyes glinting, counted out some wizard money. The coins were far too large for May’s ladylike purse, bulging with credit cards as it was, so the goblin poured the coins into a cloth satchel and he even managed a leering sort of smile when they thanked him and left.
“They were…” began Emalthya.
“Very good actors,” said May. “Almost convincing.”
“Exactly!”
Re-entering Ollivander’s, May opened the satchel and counted out eleven galleons. Ollivander dropped the coins into a till which looked as though it would fall apart as it shook itself closed. He slid the wand box towards Emalthya and her fingers rubbed dust off where she touched it.
“Thank you,” said Emalthya delightedly. She slid the box open once more and admired her wand. It was pale and shone glossily in the light. “Look, Mum!”
“Ooh,” said May, picking up the wand.
“You must take care of your wand,” said Ollivander seriously. “This particular wand must be treated well or it could-“
He was cut off by a loud, horrible crash. May, in imitation of her daughter, had swished the wand through the air and it had let off a sound like a rock falling through a roof and knocked her backwards. Emalthya hunched against the counter and Ollivander plucked the wand from May’s limp fingers.
“As I was saying,” said Ollivander in his most severe tones, “this wand will not brook mistreatment. It is quite powerful and,” he folded Emalthya’s shaking hands around the wand handle, “it has chosen you.”
“Uh… ah,” stammered Emalthya. “Are you all right, Mum?”
“Yes,” gasped May. “But I don’t understand.”
Mr Ollivander seemed about to say something, possible something scathing about proper treatment of his wands, when the door opened with a tinkle of the dull bell and a man stepped inside.
“Mr Ollivander,” he said familiarly. He swept a brimmed hat from his head and tucked it inside the baggy folds of his jacket. “I was just looking for these two. Do you mind if I take them off your hands?”
“Not at all, Mr Starrow,” replied Ollivander with a tiny amount of relief in his voice. He handed Emalthya the box to the wand. “Take care of that wand,” he cautioned a final time.
“Ms Gillingham, is it?” asked Mr Starrow. Emalthya noticed that he was quite young. Younger than her mother, she thought, but not by much. He had long sideburns and warm brown eyes. “My name is Septimus Starrow.” He bowed shortly to May. “I hope you’ll accompany me- there’s a very good ice cream shop down the way.” He seemed awkward and stumbled over his words. It seemed like he had expected to find a very different lady with a name like Ms Gillingham. Emalthya and May were often confused as sisters, which perhaps made May vainer than she would otherwise have been. At this moment, May was not vain at all, but very confused and teetering on the edge of accepting her insanity or accepting the reality of magic. She allowed Mr Starrow to lead them from Ollivander’s to the ice cream parlour still called Fortescue’s despite the owner no longer bearing the name.
Emalthya was ordered a strawberry-chocolate swirl chocolate with sprinkles and as she ate it, Mr Starrow explained that he worked in the government.
“Very boring job,” he assured them, “I just try and make sure everyone who needs to know knows about… certain things. So. As it turns out, your daughter has received a letter to Hogwarts.”
“What does that have to do with the government?” snapped May. She was not used to not understanding and did not like it.
“Hogwarts is a school like any other,” said Starrow soothingly. “All schools are subject to governmental… governance.”
“Hogwarts isn’t a real school!”
The shop went silent. Even Emalthya’s eagerly digging spoon stopped. Starrow looked around at the other patrons and chuckled forcedly. “A muggle joke, don’t worry, ha ha…” Turning back to May, he said in an undertone, “I understand your frustration, Ms Gillingham, but Hogwarts really is a school, your daughter has been selected to go and we would have handled this differently if we had known the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” asked May, replying to the part of his explanation which she had understood.
“That Emalthya’s father,” Emalthya began stabbing her icecream a little harder than necessary to get it on her spoon, “is a non-practicing wizard.” Starrow’s voice had dropped even lower. It was a tasteless subject to wizarding folk, the rejection of their ways by some of their kind.
“Douglas is a wizard as much as I am a wombat,” said May drily.
“That is correct,” said Starrow. “But the abilities he has ignored can be found in Emalthya and she has a place at Hogwarts.”
“Harry Potter isn’t real,” hissed May, not wanting to draw the attention of the others in the shop again.
“Hogwarts is real,” said Starrow simply.
“Does this mean I’m magic?” asked Emalthya. There was chocolate around her mouth.
Starrow smiled at her broadly. “Yes. How is it you found your way in here?”
“I saw the pub.”
“Did you really?” asked Starrow. He seemed much more comfortable with the child than her mother. “Most people who are not brought by their parents have to have an escort. Do you know how to get to the train?”
“Platform nine and three quarters?”
“Yes,” said Starrow. “You must be a real Harry Potter fan. This will be very exciting, going to Hogwarts.”
“Am I really going to Hogwarts, Mum?” asked Emalthya.
May looked at Emalthya and rubbed the chocolate off her face. “If we can afford it.” This man offered the only realistic explanation of the events of the day. Her rat b*****d of an ex had hidden this from her and made everything so much harder than it had to be. Typical.
Starrow looked uncomfortable. “Surely her father-“
“No," said May suppressively .
“Ah. Well, I am sure arrangements could be made.” Starrow cleared his throat and picked at his jacket. “I am not the person to speak to about that, but I will make enquiries on your behalf and have them send some extra information through to you by muggle post… that is, the postal service.” He plucked a card out of his breast pocket and handed it to May. “Please contact me if you have any more questions. If little Emalthya is finished, I can escort you out.”
Emalthya was finished and she tried to memorise all of the details of Diagon Alley as they walked back towards the pub. If they couldn’t afford to send her to school, would she see it again? Would she even be forced to return her wand? She gripped it tightly. It had chosen her; could they take it away?
Mr Starrow might have noticed her worry and looked down at her. “Now don’t you be using that wand until you get to Hogwarts. It’s against wizarding law and if you choose to be a witch you’ll have to obey it.”
Emalthya put the wand back in its box. “Will they…” she began but she couldn’t finish the question. She didn’t know what she would do if the wizard police would try and take away her wand. Mr Starrow must have thought she was being shy and he dismissed it. He saw them to the door of the pub and said goodbye.
It took a few days before Emalthya and May could really digest what had happened to them. May calculated their finances and worked out a budget; the most she could afford to pay for schooling for her daughter. When the information packet came from Starrow’s associates, May found that she did have enough to send Emalthya to school, but buying all her school things at once, without notice, would be difficult. Thankfully, they had the largest expense out of the way.
That expense lay still in its box on Emalthya’s bedside table. She did not use her wand, but often looked at it to make sure it was still there. Since going to Diagon Alley, she had not mentioned going to Hogwarts at school, nor even did she mention Harry Potter at all. She felt that by buying her wand she was now a witch and had to obey wizarding law, including the statute of secrecy. She may have been overcautious, but better to be too careful than in prison, or being expelled from Hogwarts before she even got there. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
The next time they visited Diagon Alley, Emalthya lead May into the pub and they immediately sought out the landlady to ask her to open up the back wall. The landlady showed Emalthya the brick she had to tap with her wand to pass through to Diagon Alley, but tapped it with her own wand instead. She waved them through with good cheer and hurried back inside the pub.
May and Emalthya went directly to the Gringott’s currency exchange counter before entering any other shop. With their satchel of wizard money heavy, the visited Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions for Emalthya’s school uniforms. Madam Malkin was a sweet faced older lady and she had Emalthya stand on a raised platform to be measured.
“Tall girl, aren’t you?” Madam Malkin said, lengthening the hem.
With Emalthya’s robes folded into bags, they visited all the other shops in the Alley. Eeyelop’s Owl Emporium was Emalthya’s favourite and May would have liked to buy an owl for her daughter, but the entire trip had set them back a lot of gold and Emalthya did not need an owl. Thankfully, Emalthya didn’t ask for one.
Emalthya saw other school aged children but she was far too shy to introduce herself. She was sure she could make friends at school when she got to Hogwarts. She left off reading her beloved fiction novels in favour of her new text books but the rest of her school things remained in her new monogrammed trunk.
One night, May opened Emalthya’s trunk and looked through the strange equipment inside. She suddenly felt a sick swoop of envy. The worst thing she could think of was shipping her daughter off to become a witch when she couldn’t even touch a wand without half blowing it up. If only she was a witch as well… even instead of Emalthya…
May snorted as she thought of Douglas being a wizard. She didn’t need to wonder why he never mentioned it; he was obviously too stupid to learn magic. It was unfair that scum like him was magical and she was not. She shoved everything back into the trunk and went out onto the terrace for a cigarette.
The First of September
On the first of September, Emalthya didn’t think she slept at all. She had a packed lunch, a bottle of water and books to read for the trip. She had a teddy bear for her school bed and she had said a heartfelt goodbye to her Pokemon games, which could not come with her due to the interference caused by magic. She would not risk the loss of her Pokemon friends.
Pushing a trolley laden with her heavy trunk, Emalthya self-consciously made her way to platform nine. She was sure there were Harry Potter fans there just trying to get through and she wondered how they stopped Muggles from getting through the platform. She stopped in front of the barrier between platform nine and ten.
“Mum, I think you should hold on to me,” she said.
“I think I can walk through myself,” said May irritably.
“I don’t know if you can,” said Emalthya slowly, but she was cowed by her mother’s tone.
May rolled her eyes and scoffed. She strode forward to the barrier and hit a solid wall. She slapped her hand down on the bricks angrily. “It’s sealed!”
Emalthya edged forward and touched the wall. Her hand went through. “You have to be allowed,” she said quietly. In the end, May kept her hand on Emalthya’s shoulder while they passed through the barrier. It was at this moment when May realised that no matter how she pretended or raged against it, she was not magical. She had been absolutely rejected by the magical world in the most conspicuous way.
Emalthya lead her mother to the scarlet steam engine and together they lifted the trunk into an empty compartment. Emalthya was very nervous and May soothed her by pointing out interesting animals that people were taking to Hogwarts. Before long, it was five to eleven and Emalthya kissed and hugged her mother goodbye and went on the train. She tried to smile and think of all the fun she would have, but she was very frightened of being without her mother for so long.
A few other students said hello and she said hello back and then the train was moving. Emalthya had brought things to entertain her on the trip but she didn’t need any of them; she looked out the window like it was a film. The only part of the country she had really seen was sooty old London and the city gave way to towns and then farms and then rolling hills, each more beautiful than the last. It reminded her of where she grew up.
When the afternoon faded into evening, she noticed other students getting changed into their school robes and someone told her to do the same. She fished her new robes out of her trunk and pulled them on, feeling self-conscious with the obviously-new fabric hanging in stiff folds around her knees.
She followed the other students off the train when it stopped at Hogsmede station and followed the directions shouted at her:
“First years! To the boats!”
Emalthya fell into her boat, hitting her knee, but at least she got a good spot at the front. She saw Hogwarts for the first time after passing beneath the curtain of Ivy overlooking the lake and her vision swam. The castle rose up, dark, but not brooding, slashed with a thousand lit windows like fairy lights around a pine tree. She was finally home.
Of her father, Emalthya saw very little, even before the move. She sometimes wondered if he even remembered he had a child. She didn’t feel this was her problem, however, and so she made up her mind to ignore his absence as she imagined he ignored her existence.
The Letter
One damp and cold afternoon, she returned home from school to the flat she shared with her mother to find the post boxes for the flats, usually home to pigeons or sparrows, home to a different kind of bird altogether. The owl, seemingly drowsing on top of the boxes, slowly came out of its restful state upon seeing Emalthya’s wide eyes peering up at it. It, however, seemed not to like being stared at, and it shook its feathers back into sleek place and took off out of the doorway alcove, its talon kicking at the top of the post boxes. Emalthya watched it fly away in awe; she had never seen an owl so close before. She looked back up at where it had perched and saw the edge of a letter. She jumped up and caught it with the tips of her fingers, knocking it to the floor. She eagerly picked it up and felt the thick, creamy parchment it was made of and saw that it was addressed to her in slanting green writing. Her letter to Hogwarts; arrived at long, long last.
She would have screamed if she were capable of doing anything and instead stood stock still. Eventually, the chill of the English spring took hold of her and she hurriedly went inside the building and leaped up the stairs leading to her flat two at a time.
The letter inside the envelope was perfect in every degree. It was everything she imagined her letter would be and more. It smelled mysterious and she devoured every carefully written word, even the book list. She felt like the luckiest girl in the world. What an amazing, thoughtful gift! It was the best gift for a girl so into Harry Potter. She wondered if her mother had ordered it from some website, but then maybe not. Perhaps it was from her father? It would be easy for him to get her such a thing and send it to her, easier than another gift. He hadn’t bought her anything for her birthday yet. Emalthya kissed the middle nose of the three-headed dog which had been the last gift from him. She couldn’t say he didn’t know she was a Harry Potter book fan. Then again, she supposed she should just ask her mother when she got home and learn who it was from then.
Of course, Emalthya was forgetting about the owl. She had not seen the owl deliver the letter; just that it was roosting on the post boxes in the alcove protecting the front door from rain (unless it was driving) and snow (unless it was deep) and wind (unless it was very strong). It seemed too fantastic that an owl had delivered the letter. It was probably a coincidence that it was sitting on the letter while waiting for someone to come.
But May had no clue what Emalthya was talking about when she returned home from work. When she saw the letter herself, she was impressed by its craftsmanship but also concerned; she would not have chosen to send this letter to her daughter. She was worried at the amount of times Emalthya had read those books- the third one was falling to pieces and it only months old! She smiled in a strained way, nodded at the letter and how nice it was. She told Emalthya to put it in a safe place as she’d want to keep it for ever and ever. She managed to hold her feelings in until Emalthya's bedtime.
When Emalthya was asleep, May lit a cigarette and went out onto the balcony to smoke it. She had been trying to quit for years, but they helped her cope when she was stressed. She was glad she seemed to be the only one out; flats were not very private places to live. May had not liked the idea of living so close to other people, but there was not a lot of choice in this sardine-can city. After the first cigarette was flicked for the last time and crushed into the iron railings, May flipped open her address book and began dialling on her phone.
It was three more cigarettes before she got the person she wanted to speak to and had calmed down enough to interrogate him. She had called around to find the number for Douglas, her ex-partner and Emalthya’s father. Conversations with him, she felt, were best avoided but she had to know if this letter was from him, some kind of ploy devised by him or his conniving-when-she-wanted-to-be mother.
Douglas almost mono syllabically stated that he was not the origin of the letter to his daughter. While he did not say it explicitly, he implied that he thought it was a silly idea for him to spend time and money on a child he didn’t see. In the end, he was annoyed that he was being bothered by the likes of her and she was annoyed that she had thought calling him was a good idea in the first place. Hanging up the phone and lighting a cigarette with the stub of the last one, she leaned against the sliding glass doors and tried to release the tension in her shoulders and face. This letter could have come from anywhere, some charity that sends out letters to Harry potter fans, maybe it was done through the school… though it was a Catholic school and those places didn’t really encourage the Harry Potter fantasy. Emalthya could have unwittingly signed herself up to a Harry Potter fan website and they sent this letter out to her. The only thing May felt she did know was that her ex did not send it. She resolved to put it out of her mind unless anyone called for money or information, like the Reader’s Digest people sometimes did. Either way, she thought, it’s a very good letter.
Emalthya dutifully left the letter inside her favourite hard cover book, despite her dear wish to take it to school and show everyone. She did tell everyone about it, however, much to the disapproval of the teachers. They seemed to share May’s concern that Emalthya was becoming too obsessed with Harry Potter. They consoled themselves that after this year, she might not be their problem. It was well-known to them that she was the child of a single parent and struggled to pay school fees. She probably would be shopping around for a different school for high school. So they frowned and shook their heads but stayed silent.
May was relieved when she asked Emalthya about the high schools she might like to join and had a thoughtful answer instead of an insistence that she would go to Hogwarts. It was only then that May knew for certain that Emalthya did not believe the letter was real.
Diagon Alley
It was closing in on decision time for the school Emalthya would soon attend when she and May went out to the cinema. They walked from the Underground into the heart of London. Emalthya gabbled with excitement about the film they would see, proudly saying for all to hear that she would be buying the popcorn. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at the shop beside them.
“That place looks cool. Can we go in?”
May was confused. They were standing in between a bank and a hairdresser’s. “You want a haircut?” she asked slowly.
“No, just to look,” said Emalthya, taking her mother’s hand and leading her through a door which did not lead to the hairdresser’s or the bank. They were in a dingy pub. From the outside, it looked moderately cleaner than the pubs Emalthya had seen so far in London. It reminded her of the pub she used to have raspberry lemonades in with her Nanna and Pa back at home. Inside, it smelled about the same, like stale beer and greasy counter meals, but the clientele was vastly different.
Instead of elderly men and a few elderly women congregating around the bar to chat to old friends about stories each had heard a thousand times, there were people having lunch at tables unadorned with Tatts Keno gambling papers, their chairs, crowded by bags with odd bulges, and single patrons sitting at the bar ordering drinks Emalthya could put no name to; they certainly weren’t beers.
As Emalthya gazed around curiously and May stared uncomfortably, wondering how long she should give it before she could usher Emalthya out of this pub which she had never noticed before, a lady dressed in green with many faded ruffles smiled at the girl with yellow stained teeth.
“First year at Hogwarts, darling?”
Emalthya grinned broadly. “That’s what my letter says!” She turned to her mother. “They must all read the books, too.” Emalthya believed that everyone in the pub was pretending to be a witch or wizard and this kind of pretending made perfect sense to her, like when people dressed up at Halloween in other countries, or did re-enactments, or most of the things done outside Windsor Castle.
May was slower to come to this conclusion, but eventually she settled on it as the only one which made sense. There were some crazies in the world, after all.
“Do you need to get things off your school list?” asked the landlady kindly.
“I didn’t bring it,” said Emalthya. “We’re going to the pictures today.”
“Oh,” said the landlady. Now she was confused. Someone who could come into the pub must be magical, but these didn’t seem like magical people. The child had a letter but was not anxious to get their school things? Never happened before. But everyone was different. “Well, it’s nice to have you with us, how about you have some lunch here? Complimentary,” she said with a nod to May.
“Yes,” said May, to Emalthya’s delight. They sat down and a young man in a half apron came to take their order.
The landlady disappeared out into her office and had a quick conversation in the fire. When she returned, Emalthya and May already had their meals. May was commenting on the speed of the service but her glances to her watch were becoming more frequent. They would miss the film at this rate.
“Here you are, dear,” said the landlady to Emalthya. She had a stack of envelopes in her hands. “I have copies of the school letters. Which one is yours?”
Emalthya flipped through the envelopes before finding one addressed to her. “This one! Thanks.”
The landlady tucked the other letters into her apron. “You can get your school things, then.”
“Get them where?” asked May with growing suspicion.
“I’ll show you when you’ve finished your meals, please don’t let me rush you.” The landlady left them and tended the quiet bar while Emalthya and May ate. Emalthya shovelled her food down so she could see what else would happen faster. Her mother was past hunger and left her meal unfinished. When they stood, the landlady showed them out the back to what may had expected to be the beer garden, which was in fact a dim courtyard with a stone arch in the wall leading to…
“Amazing!” cried Emalthya, dashing over the divide between the pub and Diagon Alley. She was past questioning the reality of the situation and was committed to enjoying herself without wondering if this place was real or not. That way, she was sure, lay madness.
May herself was creeping over the line between confusion and scepticism to pure enjoyment. She thanked the landlady and followed her daughter into the alley. Neither of them noticed the wall brick itself back up.
Emalthya and May wove in and out of the random shops of the alley, all thoughts of attending a film today forgotten. This place was more interesting than a film. They were attracting attention from the other shoppers, but honestly couldn’t have cared less. The items in the shops were charging magical money, while all they had were pounds and pence, but neither of them saw anything worth asking about, until they came to the wand shop.
As Emalthya looked around Ollivander’s shop, she could not imagine a more exact representation of the shop from the books. The wands piled on the shelves, the great age of the furnishings, the dust and decor, even the spindly chair; all were precise beyond her imaginings. She squeaked when she heard the creaking, whispering voice of the proprietor,
“Starting Hogwarts this year?”
“M-my letter,” Emalthya stammered, proffering it in her hand.
Ollivander took one look at the letter and, recognising it by sight, waved it away. He beckoned his customers to the counter and levelled his piercing gaze at both mother and daughter. “You’re not from here?” he asked May bluntly.
“No, we’re from-“ began May.
Ollivander nodded and hurried into the tall shelves of wands behind the counter and they heard his muttered response. “Yes, of course, my memory is not that bad that I would forget a client…” It made sense to Ollivander, as he selected wand after wand, that he would not recognise the lady if he had not sold her a wand, and if she was not a British native, then she must have bought her wand from somewhere else. The pile of boxes on Ollivander’s arms was very large as he began placing them on the counter, but, to Emalthya’s disappointment, he whittled them down to a selection of only six.
“Now, I think this one,” he said, picking up a box and sliding off the lid. Inside was a dark wand. “Try.”
Emalthya held it and swished it with a grin at her mother. As she expected, nothing happened.
“No problem, no problem,” assured Ollivander, putting it back in the box and selecting another. The next wand was honey coloured and it too did nothing. The third wand was rosy and may have been a twig for all the magic it did. Emalthya could have waved wands all day, but her mother was becoming bored.
When the yew wand’s box opened, Emalthya was taken with what she saw. If she could have any wand, it would be this wand. Ollivander described it as yew, thirteen inches, slightly springy with a core of dragon heartstring.
“So a dragon had to die for this wand?” asked Emalthya, her fingers twitching back from grasping the wand handle.
“Dragons are humanely culled when they pose a danger to humans,” explained Ollivander, his creepy voice taking on soothing tones. “We take materials from dragons which must be killed, not kill them for their materials.
Only slightly mollified, Emalthya picked up the yew wand. It made her fingertips buzz and her palm tingle and she waved her arm. Lights shone from nowhere, refracting off the dust motes in the air. Emalthya laughed, May gasped and Ollivander began putting the other wands away. Emalthya waved her arm again and the lights strengthened like the sun, and then a spotlight before bursting like an old light bulb and an explosive bang reverberated around the store. May shielded her face and Emalthya crouched low on the ground, protectively curled around her wand with her left arm around her face.
“Nothing to worry about,” said Ollivander lightly. “That is a powerful wand and you will need to show great care. Now for today that will be eleven galleons.”
May opened her purse and for once was disappointed at the pound notes inside.
Ollivander peered at the foreign money. “You can get that money changed in Gringott’s down the alley. Don’t worry, dear,” he said to Emalthya, “I will keep your wand safe for you.”
“Thank you!” said Emalthya, sliding her wand back into its box on the counter.
Back out on the street, Emalthya and May headed towards the white marble building. “That must be Gringott’s,” explained Emalthya. “Look!” she pointed to the doors as they started up the wide steps. “They might have the words!
“Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take but do not earn
Must pay most dearly in their turn
“Uh… not sure of the rest, but…
“And if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.”
They approached the doors to find Emalthya had been very close and she beamed with pride. It was all very convincing. May suddenly thought that these people had far too much time on their hands.
Inside Gringott’s, they saw row after row of… Emalthya couldn’t decide if they were puppets or animatronics or even people in costumes. They certainly looked like goblins. One of them showed Emalthya and May over to a nearby counter.
“Muggle money?” asked the cashier at the counter.
“Yes,” said May, her purse in her hand again. She didn’t carry a lot of cash and she wondered about the exchange rate, but at this stage she was so swept up in the excitement of this over-the-top spectacle. She would not be taking her daughter home without something to remember it by.
Emalthya stared at the goblin with wide eyes. “Hi,” she said shyly. She looked at her mother, and at the purse and realised that they probably would be spending the movie money on her wand. She pulled out her Harry Potter merchandise wallet and emptied a pile of silver coins on top of the notes May had laid on the counter.
“I thought you were buying the popcorn,” said May.
“This is better,” insisted Emalthya.
This seemed to warm the goblin up to them. His long, knobbly fingers moved swiftly, counting out the notes and coins faster than Emalthya could on her best day. He slid the pound notes though a small mangle to straighten out the kinks (and, Emalthya noticed, the money came out much brighter and cleaner) before he piled then into an old wooden till. With their money deposited, the goblin, his dark eyes glinting, counted out some wizard money. The coins were far too large for May’s ladylike purse, bulging with credit cards as it was, so the goblin poured the coins into a cloth satchel and he even managed a leering sort of smile when they thanked him and left.
“They were…” began Emalthya.
“Very good actors,” said May. “Almost convincing.”
“Exactly!”
Re-entering Ollivander’s, May opened the satchel and counted out eleven galleons. Ollivander dropped the coins into a till which looked as though it would fall apart as it shook itself closed. He slid the wand box towards Emalthya and her fingers rubbed dust off where she touched it.
“Thank you,” said Emalthya delightedly. She slid the box open once more and admired her wand. It was pale and shone glossily in the light. “Look, Mum!”
“Ooh,” said May, picking up the wand.
“You must take care of your wand,” said Ollivander seriously. “This particular wand must be treated well or it could-“
He was cut off by a loud, horrible crash. May, in imitation of her daughter, had swished the wand through the air and it had let off a sound like a rock falling through a roof and knocked her backwards. Emalthya hunched against the counter and Ollivander plucked the wand from May’s limp fingers.
“As I was saying,” said Ollivander in his most severe tones, “this wand will not brook mistreatment. It is quite powerful and,” he folded Emalthya’s shaking hands around the wand handle, “it has chosen you.”
“Uh… ah,” stammered Emalthya. “Are you all right, Mum?”
“Yes,” gasped May. “But I don’t understand.”
Mr Ollivander seemed about to say something, possible something scathing about proper treatment of his wands, when the door opened with a tinkle of the dull bell and a man stepped inside.
“Mr Ollivander,” he said familiarly. He swept a brimmed hat from his head and tucked it inside the baggy folds of his jacket. “I was just looking for these two. Do you mind if I take them off your hands?”
“Not at all, Mr Starrow,” replied Ollivander with a tiny amount of relief in his voice. He handed Emalthya the box to the wand. “Take care of that wand,” he cautioned a final time.
“Ms Gillingham, is it?” asked Mr Starrow. Emalthya noticed that he was quite young. Younger than her mother, she thought, but not by much. He had long sideburns and warm brown eyes. “My name is Septimus Starrow.” He bowed shortly to May. “I hope you’ll accompany me- there’s a very good ice cream shop down the way.” He seemed awkward and stumbled over his words. It seemed like he had expected to find a very different lady with a name like Ms Gillingham. Emalthya and May were often confused as sisters, which perhaps made May vainer than she would otherwise have been. At this moment, May was not vain at all, but very confused and teetering on the edge of accepting her insanity or accepting the reality of magic. She allowed Mr Starrow to lead them from Ollivander’s to the ice cream parlour still called Fortescue’s despite the owner no longer bearing the name.
Emalthya was ordered a strawberry-chocolate swirl chocolate with sprinkles and as she ate it, Mr Starrow explained that he worked in the government.
“Very boring job,” he assured them, “I just try and make sure everyone who needs to know knows about… certain things. So. As it turns out, your daughter has received a letter to Hogwarts.”
“What does that have to do with the government?” snapped May. She was not used to not understanding and did not like it.
“Hogwarts is a school like any other,” said Starrow soothingly. “All schools are subject to governmental… governance.”
“Hogwarts isn’t a real school!”
The shop went silent. Even Emalthya’s eagerly digging spoon stopped. Starrow looked around at the other patrons and chuckled forcedly. “A muggle joke, don’t worry, ha ha…” Turning back to May, he said in an undertone, “I understand your frustration, Ms Gillingham, but Hogwarts really is a school, your daughter has been selected to go and we would have handled this differently if we had known the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” asked May, replying to the part of his explanation which she had understood.
“That Emalthya’s father,” Emalthya began stabbing her icecream a little harder than necessary to get it on her spoon, “is a non-practicing wizard.” Starrow’s voice had dropped even lower. It was a tasteless subject to wizarding folk, the rejection of their ways by some of their kind.
“Douglas is a wizard as much as I am a wombat,” said May drily.
“That is correct,” said Starrow. “But the abilities he has ignored can be found in Emalthya and she has a place at Hogwarts.”
“Harry Potter isn’t real,” hissed May, not wanting to draw the attention of the others in the shop again.
“Hogwarts is real,” said Starrow simply.
“Does this mean I’m magic?” asked Emalthya. There was chocolate around her mouth.
Starrow smiled at her broadly. “Yes. How is it you found your way in here?”
“I saw the pub.”
“Did you really?” asked Starrow. He seemed much more comfortable with the child than her mother. “Most people who are not brought by their parents have to have an escort. Do you know how to get to the train?”
“Platform nine and three quarters?”
“Yes,” said Starrow. “You must be a real Harry Potter fan. This will be very exciting, going to Hogwarts.”
“Am I really going to Hogwarts, Mum?” asked Emalthya.
May looked at Emalthya and rubbed the chocolate off her face. “If we can afford it.” This man offered the only realistic explanation of the events of the day. Her rat b*****d of an ex had hidden this from her and made everything so much harder than it had to be. Typical.
Starrow looked uncomfortable. “Surely her father-“
“No," said May suppressively .
“Ah. Well, I am sure arrangements could be made.” Starrow cleared his throat and picked at his jacket. “I am not the person to speak to about that, but I will make enquiries on your behalf and have them send some extra information through to you by muggle post… that is, the postal service.” He plucked a card out of his breast pocket and handed it to May. “Please contact me if you have any more questions. If little Emalthya is finished, I can escort you out.”
Emalthya was finished and she tried to memorise all of the details of Diagon Alley as they walked back towards the pub. If they couldn’t afford to send her to school, would she see it again? Would she even be forced to return her wand? She gripped it tightly. It had chosen her; could they take it away?
Mr Starrow might have noticed her worry and looked down at her. “Now don’t you be using that wand until you get to Hogwarts. It’s against wizarding law and if you choose to be a witch you’ll have to obey it.”
Emalthya put the wand back in its box. “Will they…” she began but she couldn’t finish the question. She didn’t know what she would do if the wizard police would try and take away her wand. Mr Starrow must have thought she was being shy and he dismissed it. He saw them to the door of the pub and said goodbye.
It took a few days before Emalthya and May could really digest what had happened to them. May calculated their finances and worked out a budget; the most she could afford to pay for schooling for her daughter. When the information packet came from Starrow’s associates, May found that she did have enough to send Emalthya to school, but buying all her school things at once, without notice, would be difficult. Thankfully, they had the largest expense out of the way.
That expense lay still in its box on Emalthya’s bedside table. She did not use her wand, but often looked at it to make sure it was still there. Since going to Diagon Alley, she had not mentioned going to Hogwarts at school, nor even did she mention Harry Potter at all. She felt that by buying her wand she was now a witch and had to obey wizarding law, including the statute of secrecy. She may have been overcautious, but better to be too careful than in prison, or being expelled from Hogwarts before she even got there. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
The next time they visited Diagon Alley, Emalthya lead May into the pub and they immediately sought out the landlady to ask her to open up the back wall. The landlady showed Emalthya the brick she had to tap with her wand to pass through to Diagon Alley, but tapped it with her own wand instead. She waved them through with good cheer and hurried back inside the pub.
May and Emalthya went directly to the Gringott’s currency exchange counter before entering any other shop. With their satchel of wizard money heavy, the visited Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions for Emalthya’s school uniforms. Madam Malkin was a sweet faced older lady and she had Emalthya stand on a raised platform to be measured.
“Tall girl, aren’t you?” Madam Malkin said, lengthening the hem.
With Emalthya’s robes folded into bags, they visited all the other shops in the Alley. Eeyelop’s Owl Emporium was Emalthya’s favourite and May would have liked to buy an owl for her daughter, but the entire trip had set them back a lot of gold and Emalthya did not need an owl. Thankfully, Emalthya didn’t ask for one.
Emalthya saw other school aged children but she was far too shy to introduce herself. She was sure she could make friends at school when she got to Hogwarts. She left off reading her beloved fiction novels in favour of her new text books but the rest of her school things remained in her new monogrammed trunk.
One night, May opened Emalthya’s trunk and looked through the strange equipment inside. She suddenly felt a sick swoop of envy. The worst thing she could think of was shipping her daughter off to become a witch when she couldn’t even touch a wand without half blowing it up. If only she was a witch as well… even instead of Emalthya…
May snorted as she thought of Douglas being a wizard. She didn’t need to wonder why he never mentioned it; he was obviously too stupid to learn magic. It was unfair that scum like him was magical and she was not. She shoved everything back into the trunk and went out onto the terrace for a cigarette.
The First of September
On the first of September, Emalthya didn’t think she slept at all. She had a packed lunch, a bottle of water and books to read for the trip. She had a teddy bear for her school bed and she had said a heartfelt goodbye to her Pokemon games, which could not come with her due to the interference caused by magic. She would not risk the loss of her Pokemon friends.
Pushing a trolley laden with her heavy trunk, Emalthya self-consciously made her way to platform nine. She was sure there were Harry Potter fans there just trying to get through and she wondered how they stopped Muggles from getting through the platform. She stopped in front of the barrier between platform nine and ten.
“Mum, I think you should hold on to me,” she said.
“I think I can walk through myself,” said May irritably.
“I don’t know if you can,” said Emalthya slowly, but she was cowed by her mother’s tone.
May rolled her eyes and scoffed. She strode forward to the barrier and hit a solid wall. She slapped her hand down on the bricks angrily. “It’s sealed!”
Emalthya edged forward and touched the wall. Her hand went through. “You have to be allowed,” she said quietly. In the end, May kept her hand on Emalthya’s shoulder while they passed through the barrier. It was at this moment when May realised that no matter how she pretended or raged against it, she was not magical. She had been absolutely rejected by the magical world in the most conspicuous way.
Emalthya lead her mother to the scarlet steam engine and together they lifted the trunk into an empty compartment. Emalthya was very nervous and May soothed her by pointing out interesting animals that people were taking to Hogwarts. Before long, it was five to eleven and Emalthya kissed and hugged her mother goodbye and went on the train. She tried to smile and think of all the fun she would have, but she was very frightened of being without her mother for so long.
A few other students said hello and she said hello back and then the train was moving. Emalthya had brought things to entertain her on the trip but she didn’t need any of them; she looked out the window like it was a film. The only part of the country she had really seen was sooty old London and the city gave way to towns and then farms and then rolling hills, each more beautiful than the last. It reminded her of where she grew up.
When the afternoon faded into evening, she noticed other students getting changed into their school robes and someone told her to do the same. She fished her new robes out of her trunk and pulled them on, feeling self-conscious with the obviously-new fabric hanging in stiff folds around her knees.
She followed the other students off the train when it stopped at Hogsmede station and followed the directions shouted at her:
“First years! To the boats!”
Emalthya fell into her boat, hitting her knee, but at least she got a good spot at the front. She saw Hogwarts for the first time after passing beneath the curtain of Ivy overlooking the lake and her vision swam. The castle rose up, dark, but not brooding, slashed with a thousand lit windows like fairy lights around a pine tree. She was finally home.
First Year at Hogwarts
Sorting
Emalthya and the other first years waited in the alcove off the Great Hall. Her stomach churned. Which house would she be in? She didn’t think she was smart enough to be in Ravenclaw, or hard-working enough to be a Hufflepuff. Maybe a Gryffindor? But only heroes went into Gryffindor and, looking around at the other students, she couldn’t think of herself fighting to rescue them. Maybe Slytherin? Yes, that might be the best house for her. Brave, smart, curious, they sounded like her kind of people. She thought the idea that all Slytherins were evil was a lot of crap. People like to make other people seem worse than they are so they can think better of themselves. Emalthya didn’t want to be some holier-than-thou Gryffindor when she could hang out with people like her in the green house! Gold wasn’t her shade, anyway.
With the others in her year, she entered the great hall and she thought it was aptly named. It was a clear night and the stars were reflected in the enchanted ceiling. Floating candles cast light on the students and the glistening robes of the teachers. And there, on the stool in front of them all, was the Sorting Hat.
As a girl who had two Sorting Hat toys, Emalthya had expected something different. This sorting hat looked like it smelled and like it was falling apart. She wondered why no-one had thought to take to it with a needle and thread. She would have offered to herself if her sewing kit hadn’t been in her trunk.
It wobbled on its stool and let out, in a great man’s voice, its unique yearly song. Emalthya was mesmerised by how it stayed together throughout its performance. She was wondering how she might start mending it when the first student’s name was called up to the stool.
Half of the line passed into the main body of students and then;
“Lovell, Emalthya.”
Emalthya froze and then staggered forwards two steps before taking a breath and getting her feet untangled. Suddenly she was at the stool with no memory of walking the intervening space. There was someone in front of her holding the Hat. It was much scummier close up. Emalthya suddenly wondered how clean the hair was of everyone else who had worn it and if they fumigated the Hat to kill the odd head louse. Then the lights went out as the hat slid over her head and the brim fell across her eyes.
The Hat felt as though it twitched a little bit like a person tilting their head to their shoulder as they considered something. “Potential here,” it muttered. “Brave, trustworthy, yes. Gryffindor looks like the place for you-“
“Excuse me,” interrupted Emalthya unsteadily. “I really would prefer not to be in Gryffindor. I think I would prefer Slytherin.”
“Now what makes you say that?” chortled the hat. “Red not your colour?”
“I like red as much as the next person,” replied Emalthya. “It’s gold I am not fond of. But it’s got nothing to do with colour. I just think I am more of a Slytherin girl.”
The hat was curious, now. “You like snakes or something?” It honestly could not see this girl in Slytherin, but it was open to hearing her out.
Emalthya shuddered a little. “Not really. Where I come from we have the deadliest snakes in the world. I don’t like snakes. I don’t like lions, either. But, I don’t like people much. And Gryffindors are just so… happy.”
“What about Nearly Headless Nick?” asked the Hat pointedly.
“Isn’t he the happiest ghost here, not counting the fat Friar? People upset me, Hat, and in Slytherin I think I’ll fit in better. I don’t want to spend seven years here alone.”
The hat twitched again, this time like someone shaking their head angrily. “Since when is this about fitting in, girlie? If I wanted to fit in, I would ask for a wash!”
Emalthya shifted awkwardly on the stool, remembering her first impression of the Hat.
“Trust me,” said the hat emphatically, “I have seen my fair share of worried students, more than anyone’s fair share, actually. If you go into Slytherin, they will use you up. You’re good-hearted. You should let someone else protect you, for once. Gryffindor is the place to find good allies.”
Emalthya couldn’t speak; her throat was closed with emotion. The Hat saw into her head and it didn’t mind what it saw there. It even thought she was worth protecting. Everyone always told her to change and that she wasn’t good enough. She wanted to cry.
The Hat must have sensed her approval, because it cried out, “GRYFFINDOR!”
The Hat was lifted off her head and Emalthya was startled to find herself in a room full of people. She had forgotten they were there and suddenly was worried that they had all heard what she and the Hat had said to each other. The teacher holding the hat nudged her towards the table clapping the loudest and she got to her feet stiffly and walked like a lead-limbed soldier doll to a spare space at the Gryffindor table.
