Two Worlds and In Between by Minerva McTabby
a flashback from Carus Tamino's point of view
The Sorting Ceremony, 1851
Sometimes ignorance can change a life.
Had I known who they were, when first I saw them, I'd never have dared laugh at them - and they wouldn't have noticed me - and much would have been different then, no doubt. But I'd never spoken to anyone from the great families, never even been close to one of them; so I didn't know them by sight, that first day as we awaited our Sorting.
I could see my own nervous anticipation reflected in the faces of almost all the boys milling about the small chamber off the entrance hall. I wished to be a Ravenclaw, like my father. Surely they wouldn't place me in Gryffindor - I wasn't brave, not a bit - and the terrifying thought of becoming one of the few plebeians in Slytherin sufficed to quench any ambition I might have felt. Hufflepuff, perhaps - yes, that would suit me well enough. Ravenclaw, then; or Hufflepuff. I clung to the names of the Houses like talismans, hoping...
The sound of raised voices made me turn to find two boys circling each other at the center of the room, wands drawn. Tall and dark-haired, both of them, and they seemed really angry - making sparks fly, threatening each other with some awful curses I'd never heard of before - and yet as others stepped back from them in alarm, or drew closer to egg them on, I started to laugh. It was all a jest, of course, an excellent jest.
I didn't pause to wonder how I knew this. The Sight couldn't have been further from my thoughts, then.
And when they swung around, scowling, to point their wands at me and swear they'd hex me so hard I'd miss the Sorting and the first week of classes, I looked back at them and knew that these two would never harm me. Again - I just knew.
Besides, they delighted me with their skill - they seemed so very fierce and acted so well. So, through my giggles, I answered as if they were my playmates from Diagon Alley, telling them in the gutter-language of London's wizarding children what I thought of their threats and their hexes.
The two boys actually seemed shocked for a moment. Then they glanced at each other and burst out laughing, dropping the pretence of a fight, and turned back to me, looking me up and down in a way which abruptly made me aware that my robes weren't nearly as nice as theirs.
My first impression of a resemblance between them faded as I studied them more closely. The boy on my right had a wide mouth and a pleasant smile; his eyes made me think of chocolate, his hair was a very dark brown, and his face looked as if he'd spent the whole summer outdoors. But the other's skin might never have seen the sun, and his hair was like coal-dust, and the eyes that met mine were a deep, vivid blue.
"Your name?" It was the second boy who asked.
"Tamino," I said, still staring at both of them. "Carus Tamino..."
Then the grey-haired Master returned, lined us up by name, and led us all into the Great Hall, where the Hat sang for us - I thought it was a little flat on the high notes, but nobody said anything - and our Sorting Ceremony began. The same Master read out our names from a scroll; one by one the new boys came forward to sit on a stool, and another very imposing Master, introduced as Professor Lott, lowered the Sorting Hat onto their heads.
"Oh, hurrah!" The whispered cheer came from behind me as the Hat called out "SLYTHERIN!" for a round-faced boy with sandy hair. I glanced around to find one of the two hex-happy boys quite close to me in line.
He noticed me and held out a hand, grinning. "I'm Lucan Valery! D'you play Quidditch?"
I shook his hand mutely, wanting to explain that yes, I did like Quidditch, but didn't play - there wasn't room in London, too hard to hide a game from Muggles - yet all I could say was "Umm..." His name was Valery?
"I play," said the boy standing between us.
"I wasn't asking you, Traherne." Lucan Valery's tone was dismissive; the Traherne family ranked far beneath his own. But he still smiled at me - and I still had no idea how to speak to him, now that I knew who he was.
Turning away in confusion, I watched the Hat send a slender, auburn-haired boy into Gryffindor and bit my lip in the guilty awareness that I'd already disobeyed my father, barely an hour after reaching Hogwarts.
Keep away from the sons of the great families, he'd told me. Show them due respect, but keep away, and do nothing to draw their attention.
Valery. Ranked fourth, or third, or something like that. Very high.
"Gerson, Guichard!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
I watched enviously as the fortunate Gerson ran to the Ravenclaw table.
"Herrick, Tarquin!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
And the Valery boy would go into Slytherin too, most likely, and he'd probably never notice me again - so there was nothing to worry about there, I decided; and then I managed to keep my mind on the Sorting for some time, until -
"Marvolo, Julius!"
My mouth opened in a soundless gasp as the other boy, the one who had asked my name, strolled forward as coolly as if he owned the castle, the Hall, the Hat, and all of us as well. As he did, in a sense: heir of the family ranked first in the game, the only person present who could claim direct descent from one of the Founders... Well, the Muggle world had its royalty, and if any of our kind could claim the same distinction - here was one of them.
And Lord Marvolo's heir knew my name. Oh, my father wouldn't like this at all.
As the whole school held its breath, Julius Marvolo remained unruffled - how could he, with so many people staring at him? - giving every impression that he and the Sorting Hat were chatting like old friends. And then, inevitably -
"SLYTHERIN!"
Applause broke out at the Slytherin table, and a fleeting smile crossed the face of the stern-looking Professor Lott. Moving with the same easy confidence, the Marvolo heir went to join his housemates; but he spared a moment to wave back at Lucan Valery, and it was almost as if he'd waved at me as well - though he hadn't, of course - whyever should he? He must have forgotten my name already.
After that, it seemed but a moment until my own turn arrived.
"Tamino, Carus!" said Professor Switch, the grey-haired Master.
"Fair fortune!" whispered a now-familiar voice behind me, and in my wonder at that I quite forgot to be nervous as I took my seat and Professor Lott placed the Hat on my head.
"Ah, if only all of them were this plain," it said to me. "You make my task easy, child."
"Easy?" I echoed, rather stupidly. Was that a good thing, or not?
"Indeed. Off you go, now - you're a RAVENCLAW!"
Giddy with happiness, I made my way to the Ravenclaw table and found a place among the other first-years, joining in the exchange of names and handshakes; but part of my attention remained with the Hat, hearing it pronounce Traherne a Slytherin. Then it was Lucan Valery's turn, and his Sorting took no longer than mine.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"He's not in Slytherin!" In my surprise, I spoke aloud.
"Of course not - he isn't the heir, after all," said the boy on my left, who had introduced himself as Guichard Gerson. "Our family is in alliance with theirs, so I know. There's the Valery heir - third from the head of the Slytherin table, on the right - see him? The pretty one."
By craning my neck I could see him clearly - a striking boy of fifteen or sixteen, with red-gold hair.
"Why, they don't look a bit alike!"
"No, they don't, do they? Ciebel - that's the heir - he looks like a real Valery - like their mother - but she wed a younger son from the Oresme line - you do know the tale, don't you?"
I had to admit I did not, and Gerson appeared delighted at my ignorance.
"Well, that's why Lucan Valery and his sister have the Oresme looks," he said - and went on to tell me more.
Being a know-it-all was never considered a flaw in our House; it was something of a sport, rather, and in time I learned to play it with the best of them, but that night I was content to listen and allow Gerson to show off his knowledge.
There turned out to be six Ravenclaws in our year - all plebeians save for Gerson and another younger son from a low-ranked family - and I was kept busy making their acquaintance throughout the feast and later, as we settled into our dormitory and stayed up talking far into the night.
The next morning our classes began. I kept close to my housemates all day as we moved about the castle, finding something new and interesting every hour. Potions, shared with the Hufflepuffs, turned out to be especially marvelous - I could tell it would be my favorite subject, and Professor Jigger, also our Head of House, was everything I could wish for in a teacher, patient and witty and wise.
By dinnertime that day, I was quite certain that I'd be very happy at Hogwarts.
Then, in the crowd of students streaming out of the Great Hall after dinner, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see Lucan Valery again.
"There you are!" he said cheerfully. "We're off to explore - want to come along?"
Had he been there, my father would have told me to offer a polite excuse to the Valery younger son and rejoin my Ravenclaw yearmates, who glanced at me curiously as they passed us in the entrance hall.
My father wasn't there. Instead I saw the Marvolo heir, munching on a large piece of gingerbread, and another Slytherin with him.
"Splendid idea, Lucan. He seems sound enough, and he's amusing!" He transferred the gingerbread to his left hand and held out the right to me. "I'm Julius Marvolo - and this is Aulus," he added, nodding at the sandy-haired boy beside him. "He's the Belcore heir, and our families are allies, and now we're status partners, and we're going to fight our way right up to the head of the table - oh, it'll be such fun! So, are you with us this night?"
I shook his slightly sticky hand, and couldn't help returning his smile.
"Decided, then. Let's go!" With that, Valery snatched the gingerbread and raced off up the marble staircase, laughing; Marvolo let out a yell and ran after him.
"Come on!" said Aulus Belcore, grinning at me - and we followed them.
Within a week, they gave me leave to use their first names - first Lucan, then Julius, then Aulus. Within a month, the four of us were inseparable; and I'd mastered the trick of conversing with them easily, as long as I could pretend they were not who they were.
I simply didn't mention them in my letters home.
Note: This is a prelude to a long story called Two Worlds and In Between - which is narrated by Julius Marvolo and starts off in 1855, when the boys mentioned here are all in their fifth year.