Beguiled

The Sorting

"It is customary for students to make their first entrance into the Great Hall from the main door. However, " he raised his eyebrows at Dahlia, "I am conscious that it may be rather daunting for you to walk down to the podium where you will be sorted, as rows of children watch you intently from the comfort of their seats." Dahlia gulped. Dumbledore clearly had a way with words, an aptitude to discovering and speaking the truth of equivocated thoughts, banished to the back of one's mind. He continued. 

"For this reason, I should like you to join me in entering the Great Hall from the staff door." He turned his back to Dahlia once more, and waved his hand in front of the doorknob, which clicked in response. Before he could step through the door, which was already slowly creaking open, Dahlia spoke, her voice more shaky than she would have liked. 

"Does everyone know I'm coming?" 

Dumbledore turned once more. If he was getting tired of her questions, he did not show it, and approached her question with the same calm composure as he had throughout the entirety of their conversation in his office. 

"The teachers have all been made aware of your arrival, but the students have yet to find out." He turned back, humming to himself as he stepped through the cleared doorway, motioning for Dahlia to follow him. She complied, moving cautiously behind him, carefully so as not to tread on the Headmaster's trailing robes. 

The warmth and light hit her as soon as she stepped into the room, like a bright summer breeze following a rainy episode. The heat from the candlelight warmed the room enough to spread across the hall and coat her skin with soothing incandescence. The light, contrasting with the dimly lit corridors enough to marginally lift her spirits, even for a little while. Dahlia gaped in awe at her surroundings. 

The room truly was great, lit by thousands upon thousands of candles, floating in mid-air above four long tables packed with students, chattering animatedly. The tables were laid with glittering, golden plates and goblets. Upon looking up, Dahlia saw a remarkable velvety black ceiling dotted with stars, so realistic that for a moment, she thought the room truly did open out into the night sky. 

In her awe and spectating, she had almost forgotten that she was not yet a member of this community, but simply an outsider looking in, and suddenly felt more aware of her interpolation. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other awkwardly, as she looked around her. Dahlia noticed that she was stood on a podium, raised almost a metre above the ground where the students were seated. Behind her was another long table where, she supposed, the teachers were seated. She averted her eyes uncomfortably as she realised that they were all gazing at her intently. So was, she soon realised, the entire student body, whose noisy chattering had lowered considerably to hushed whispers in between stolen glances at her. 

Dumbledore, who had been leaning over the teacher's table behind her, whispering something in the ear of a rather greasy haired, stony faced man dressed entirely in black, suddenly straightened, perhaps in surprised acknowledgement of the sudden change in atmosphere in the Great Hall. Seemingly taking no notice of Dahlia, Dumbledore ambled to the centre of the podium and raised his hand, calling for silence. Immediately, every head turned to face him, waiting for him to speak. 

Dahlia was rather taken aback at the authority Dumbledore held over the student body. Granted, he was the Headmaster, but he had seemed so quiet and calm that she had not expected such as response from his students. In fact, she had not expected less than for him to be laughed off the podium at most, or at least, have his voice drowned out by the resumed chatter of the students. Evidently, despite his quiet disposition, he was clearly not a wizard to be meddled with. The power he exuded, simply standing in the centre of the podium, provided Dahlia with an inkling of why Voldemort felt so intimidated by the Headmaster. It was difficult not to have respect for this man, even if she had just met him an hour ago.