"That cardigan is atrocious," Constance said sharply, finishing her third coat of lipstick, clicking the cap shut. "Coco Chanel would be devastated."
Venus cocked her head slightly, "Who?"
A long line of scared-looking first years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim. The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.
The first years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. A small girl with bandaged wrapped around her head stood at the edge of the group, it was Cordelia. She was one of the few first years who wasn't shaking in her shoes. Venus watched proudly as the little girl neared the front of the Great Hall.
The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song. The usually cheery, lively lyrics had become extremely ominous. The hat declaring Hogwarts was now in mortal danger only sparked scattered applause from students.
"Did the hat just warn us?" asked Constance, who'd actually began listening to what was going on around her.
"I think so," Venus rejoined. Since her first year, the hat had never, not in any way, warned them about something so . . . apocalyptic.
But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the four House tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out a first years name.
She took no interest into clapping for first years that hadn't been placed in Gryffindor until McGonagall called out, "SHACKLEBOLT, CORDELIA!"
Cordelia stepped up to the podium and sat down on the stool, McGonagall placing the sorting hat on her head, flattening the curls that poked from her head. Venus felt the smallest bit of anticipation, waiting for Cordelia's sorting. That's when the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!" Venus clapped loudly with the rest of the Gryffindor table as Cordelia walked to the front with other first years. She smiled toward Venus, getting pulled into rapid conversation with other first years.
"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands — welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"
There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so that as to keep it out of the way of his plate— for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice. "Excellent," Venus heard Ron say, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.
"Eat carbs or. . . Enjoy myself?" said Constance as her head bobbed between the steamed vegetables and the pan of cooked lasagna, "what would Paris Hilton choose?"
"Shut up and eat, Constance."
Venus was half way into her salad, stabbing lettuce and pasta on her fork and munching on it. Going by unnoticed, she was being watched finely by Harry. His plate clean of any food in contrast to his friends and housemates around him. He wanted to speak to her, he wanted to speak to Sirius' daughter. And find out why he kept her hidden away for so long. It was something to distract him from the stares.
Dumbledore had just dismissed everyone from the Great Hall, great clattering of dishes and chattering of students boomed even louder in the atmosphere. Harry watched Venus stand up and walk over to them, he felt his heart drop when she approached Ron instead.
"Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where the common room is," she said calmly.
"Oh, yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey— hey you lot! Midgets!"
Venus brought her hand up and smacked Ron in the chest. "Ron! You can't call them that!"
"Well, they are titchy. . ." Venus laughed at his comment, shaking her head as she did so. Harry had seen how quickly Ron and Venus became friends. Maybe they had to - for their Prefect duties.
"That's no excuse . . . First years!" Venus called commandingly along the table. "Follow us, please!"
Harry watched Venus and Ron leave the common room side by side; their shoulders occasionally brushing against one another's. Harry felt his mouth twitch and looked back over to Hermione, who was facing a wonderstruck Constance with a sour look on her face. That moment, that night in the common room was Harry's chance to talk to Venus. Properly this time.
𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐓
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