Ten years after I began at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow is back. And he's Professor Sallow now. He disappeared after the fall of Ranrok and Rookwood, after I lost Professor Fig, and after Ominis and I couldn't keep him from losing himself. But I never...
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I throw my arms haphazardly into the sleeves of my robe, shaking off the turbulence I feel and tamping down galaxies of emotion inside me. I hear a wave of applause from inside the Great Hall and take advantage of the loud eruption to slip through the large, creaky doors.
Sorting is underway, and it appears around half of the first years are still waiting for their turn with the sorting hat.
Phew.
Professor–no. Headmistress Weasley is leading the sorting effort with the assistance of Deputy Headmaster Ronan and I see her look up and catch my eye. She smiles but I can also sense she's a little annoyed. It's okay. I would be, too.
I shrug and mouth "sorry" as I begin to skirt along the side of the room, against the wall to the side of the Slytherin table, to make my way to the front of the room with the rest of the faculty. Luckily, my presence goes relatively undetected save for the quizzical looks and whispers from a few Slytherin students who happen to notice me.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" announces the Sorting Hat. The room claps.
I had planned on being here on time. Planned on being the exemplary new professor. Planned on being a friendly, welcoming face to this group of students. But as of tonight, I can heartily confirm that the road to literal hell is, in fact, paved with good intentions just like those.
Nearing the front of the room, I catch Sharp's eye and he stands with a start upon noticing my blood-soaked shirt. Repaired though it may be, it still displays unquestionable red stains and the sight of it makes his face go ashen, sick with concern.
I quickly pull the sides of the robe together in the front to close the view of my clothes underneath and shake my head towards him, emphatically mouthing the words 'I'm fine,' and make the universal 'okay' gesture.
"GRYFFINDOR!" yells the Sorting Hat. Applause.
Sharp reluctantly sits back down and I see his eyes shift to the back of the room. An anger washes across his brow as he jumps to some kind of conclusion upon Sebastian entering the hall and slinking himself into the shadow of a dark corner to observe from a distance.
Whatever.
I snag an open chair next to Imelda who is sitting proudly in full Slytherin Quidditch regalia and clearly observed my interaction with Sharp.
She leans towards me and asks in her melodic, Scottish brogue, "What in the world happened to you?"
"Don't laugh."
"Oh, I definitely will," she smiles, elegantly sipping at a glass of elderflower wine.
"I splinched."
She snorts and coughs some liquid back into her cup, preventing herself from choking only by a millisecond.
