The opening of the waiting room doors took me totally by surprise. I had been looking up at a large wall tapestry which featured the Coat of Arms of Hogwarts and was about to ask someone if they thought the Founders had chosen the animals that represented their Houses, when the sound of the footsteps brought my attention back into the room. I turned around to see what all the noise was, and realized that somehow I had been left behind. I walked out of the door onto the landing, and saw that all of the other students had already crossed through an even larger doorway. I was alone on the landing except for a grizzled old man and a most interestingly looking cat. The cat was steadily snaking its way between the man’s feet, rubbing its back on the man’s big brown boots as I approached the doors.

I stopped, crouched down to the cat’s eye level and said, “Hello, my name is Luna Lovegood.” After this introduction, I extended my right arm palm up slightly more than half way to the feline to see if it would respond.

“Oh, I wouldn’t touch her if I were you. Besides, you’re late, so you best get inside there for the Sorting,” said the old man whose face and voice were both scowls.

Pulling my hand back and not looking up at the man, I told the now motionless cat, “I’ve got to go now. Maybe we can talk later.” As I stood up and looked into the man’s face, he seemed offended by my attempt to talk to the cat.

By the time I actually entered the Great Hall, the old female teacher stood at the front hall next to a chair with a hat on it. I decided it probably was best that I join the rest of them just in case something important happened.

As I entered into the Great Hall, I saw a most interesting sight. In the air above four long tables arranged in rows were hundreds of bobbing candles. As I stood in the aisle between two of the tables gazing up at the candles, I felt something brush against my shoulder. Two people were walking past. One was a tall, red-haired boy and the second was a younger girl with very bushy, brown hair. I heard the girl ask him how was possible that two boys could miss the train to Hogwarts and no one notice. The boy didn’t know, but he was certain that his mother was going to blame him for it.

I followed the pair down the center aisle listening to their discussion until they sat down on a bench close to the front of the Hall. As the duo sat down, they both turned their faces toward the front. I also looked over and saw that the female Professor was crooking a finger at me. As I approached, she pointed to a spot near her for me to stand. As I arrived at the front of the group Professor McGonagall said, “Onesimus Austin.”

A thin, blond haired boy walked up to the stool and sat upon it. The old woman placed the hat on his head and it soon yelled “RAVENCLAW!” A bunch of people behind me clapped. After the next name was announced, I realized that her list was alphabetic by last name. I had plenty of time.

Over to my left I saw Mr. Hagrid sitting at the large table that ran across the front of the Hall. We had met at the Hogsmeade railway platform and I asked him about the coat he was wearing. We held a nice conversation all the way until we arrived at the lake and we continued the talk on the boat trip across to the castle. He had told me about the unicorns, centaurs, and Thestrals that lived in the forest he was in charge of. I decided to wait for my name while talking to him.

I walked toward the table where all the adults sat. As I walked by a thin man with long, black hair attempted to grab my arm. I jumped back and waved my index finger at him to tell him that was not appropriate behavior. Three seats to the left of dark man, I saw an old man with a very long beard; he seemed to enjoying a joke or something. As I walked by, the old man gave me a wink.

Finally, I made it over to Mr. Hagrid’s seat. He looked quite surprised that I was standing in front of him. He told me, “Luna, you best be getting back to the rest of the students. You don’t want to get into trouble, do you?”

I shook my head, not knowing why talking to him would get me into trouble. Wasn’t I at Hogwarts to learn? Don’t you learn by asking questions? I just looked into his concerned, large face and asked the questions that had brought me over to him. “What do Threstrals eat? Do they all eat the same kind of food?”

Hagrid looked nervously down the table to his left toward the old, bearded man as a name that sounded like Creevey was announced. When the big man started to answer, it was obvious he was trying to whisper, but his voice came out just about as loud as a normal man’s talking.

“Well, Threstrals are a bit like people, actually. When they’re really young they nurse off their mums. When they are too old to nurse they eat apples, figs, and greens. However, when it’s time for them to test their wings, their tastes change again and they prefer meat. The bloodier the meat is the better.”

“Wow! Could you take me out tonight to see them?” I asked.

“Can’t, it’s agains’ the rules. Besides, Luna, wouldn’t you be afraid of being in the forest after dark?” he added in his attempted whisper.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Why would I be afraid to be in a forest?

Suddenly, Mr. Hagrid dropped his gaze and acted really interested in his large twitching fingers. At the same time from just behind and almost a foot above my head, I heard someone clearing their throat. I turned to find the tall, black-robed female teacher looking down at me over her reading glasses.

She took my left hand and said, “It’s about time that you join the rest of your classmates in front of the stool.” The woman’s voice was stern and full of authority, but I could tell she wasn’t being threatening. So, I allowed myself to be lead into the front of the group standing before the stool.

The Professor announced a last name beginning with the letter J, but by then I had noticed something rather magnificent. Above the floating candles, the night sky was shown clearly. The skies in London or in Ottery St. Catchpole were never this clear of Muggle lights. I tried to find all the constellations father had taught me. I had just found the Little Slashkilter, when I felt someone tap me on my shoulder.

The person who had tapped me was a freckle faced, red haired girl who was pointing toward the Professor. The austere old woman was glaring down at me and said, “Are you Luna Lovegood?” I nodded my head up and down. “Well then,” she added, pointing toward the stool.

I walked up to the stool and sat facing the staff table. From behind, I heard a trickle of laughter. I turned to see what was so funny. Unfortunately as I turned around, my swinging legs accidentally kicked Professor McGonagall in the shin. The kick almost made her drop the hat that she had been trying to lower onto my head.

McGonagall gave me a stern look over her reading glasses and whispered, “Please sit still until I’ve placed the Sorting Hat upon your head.” As she spoke, I remembered Father’s talk on Platform Nine and Three Quarters about being respectful of my teachers wishes even if they seemed rather silly. In order to be still, I pulled my knees up into my chest, raised my shoulders blades almost to my ears, took a deep breath and waited for the hat to be placed upon my head.

As soon as the hat touched me, I heard a male voice that seemed to be coming from inside my head. I raised my hands up and touched the brim of the hat.

“You have curiosity and a thirst to know, very Ravenclaw. Also there is an unusual independence and total disregard for the status quo, could be Gryffindor. No desire for status or power, Hufflepuff perhaps. No Slytherin traits anywhere to be found in you,” said the voice in my head.

I couldn’t be quiet any longer, “What are you? How were you made? Is the voice you speak with the voice of the man who charmed you? Do you think for yourself? Do you have a name? My name’s Luna,” I asked.

“I’m the Sorting Hat and I’ve already explained how I was made but you didn’t listen. My voice is simply my voice. And I think no more or no less than any one else does,” the hat replied. I had to laugh at that. I think no more or no less than any one else does.

“No, you being in Hufflepuff is out. In Gryffindor, you’d be able to explore your the limits of your individuality and learn to be a team player. As a Ravenclaw, you would learn to both focus and expand your mind,” the hat pondered.

“How can I both focus and expand my mind?” I asked.

“You know so much, with a very long way to go. However, you should be smart enough to not believe everything you think you know. Letting go of what you think you know is where wisdom does start. You have a better chance at being wise than you do of being smart,” the hat composed.

“I don’t understand. Would you please explain?” I pleaded with the hat.

“No, wisdom is a journey and to equip you for it all, is to say to everybody,” the hat’s voice echoed in my head. “RAVENCLAW,” I heard through my ears. Unlike the other pronouncements of the hat, no applause followed my sorting. The old Professor pulled the hat off my head and I just sat there not knowing what to do or where I should go.

Finally, a pretty, curly haired older girl approached me with her hand extended said, “Hello Luna, I’m Penelope Clearwater. Please follow me to the Ravenclaw table.” I took Penelope’s hand and skipped to keep up with the taller girl until we arrived at our table.

She stopped realizing that he had not laughed once at her imitation of the Sorting Hat. He had always laughed at that part of her story before. Luna slid her hand, groping along the cold stone floor to her left accidentally brushing against their water bottle. When her arm failed to reach its target, she concentrated on the sound of his breathing. She slid twice to the left reached out and found the thin, coarse blanket that was his bed. Gently, she slid her hand across the blanket, found the nail that he kept hidden, and eventually located his hand. It had a very clammy feeling. She stood up in the dark, placed her hand upon the cold wall and took two large steps along the back wall. Bending over, Luna found her own blanket, picked it off the floor and gently shook it out in the air. Retracing her steps, she blindly laid her blanket over his sleeping form. Finally, she took his hand within hers hoping their warmth might help him somehow.

Luna could feel him awaken either from warmth of her touch or the movement of his hand. “Oh yes, that was very funny. I do like the part of your story when on your first morning at Hogwarts, the poor Prefect had to hunt around the whole school until she found you talking with the portraits,” he wheezed in an abnormally weak voice.

She was still an hour away from the portraits, but she decided it was best for Mr. Ollivander to make it a short story night.

Penelope had found me talking with the portrait of a woman named Apphia who had a cat called Guinevere. We arrived in the Great Hall just in time to see breakfast disappear from the tables. Penelope was not very happy with me.

My Head of House, Professor Flitwick, began to hand out the first-year class schedules. Penelope snatched my schedule out of my hand before I even got to finish reading it. She asked the Professor about our first class being Potions. She seemed really concerned about it.

I didn’t catch much of their conversation, but I hear him say to her, “Don’t worry Penny, our good Potions teacher hasn’t killed a student in years.”

Penelope took my hand and led all of us down into the dungeon for our very first class. When we arrived, we found the red-haired boy from the night before and he was giving all of his first-years a little inspection. Just as he finished, the door in front of us opened and out stepped the man who had tried to grab me the previous night: Professor Snape.

Professor Snape sneered as he said, “Clearwater and Weasley, don’t tell me you’ve been demoted to first-year status.” The dark man’s voice was like no other voice I’d ever heard. The voice was like a Dwale berry dipped in thick molasses: slow and possibly deadly. He stared at the Gryffindors and then at me and said, “Another Weasley! Percy, please tell me she is the last of your clan that I must endure teaching. Oh look, our little Ravenclaw showoff from the Sorting Ceremony. How precious.”

Listening to his voice, I thought that this must be like what it is to hear the songs of the Blibbering Humdinger, who entrances its prey with its song and then devours it. You wanted to listen to it, but you fear what might happen.

He opened the door and all of us first-year students went inside. I had found a seat in the second row center when the Professor pulled out his wand from his sleeve and moved my books to one of the two desks directly in front of him. A red-haired Gryffindor girl, who I didn’t yet know was Ginny Weasley, soon occupied the other desk.

Yet, before we could get out our parchment and quills, the large, dark man walked in front of my neighbor and began asking her question after question. He didn’t even stop to let her finish her answers. Ginny sat there and tried her best at answering.

I must have had a strange look on my face, because the next thing I knew he turned to me and said, “Do you think this girl’s ignorance is funny? Quick, tell me what is a bezoar and to what use would you put it?”

I looked him in the eyes and answered, “A bezoar is a stone found in a goat’s stomach and it is the second best antidote for unknown poisons.”

He looked disappointed and confused. Finally, he said in his slowest and deepest voice yet almost spitting the words out, “And what pray tell, in your vast experience, is the best antidote for an unknown poison?”

The answer was so simple, “Nargle dung is the best thing for poison thorns or bites. It is also just as effective as a bezoar when you are dealing with a swallowed poison.

Professor Snape bent low over my head and said, “Nargle dung? What is a Nargle! Are you trying to insult my intelligence, girl?”

I was confused. Didn’t everyone know about Nargles? The Quibbler had published a story just three months ago about a man who saved his brother’s life by use of Nargle dung. Maybe as a Potions teacher, Professor Snape was unfamiliar with magical creatures. I tried to explain, “Nargles are tiny salamander-like lizards that infest holly and mistletoe. If you are ignorant of them, I’m sure Mr. Hagrid could teach you,” was all I got out of my mouth before fire erupted from behind the curtain of black hair.

“Hagrid…teach…me! Ten points from Ravenclaw for wasting my time with your babbling nonsense and ten additional points for your cheek,” he said, giving me a look of anger.

In the future, I’d know that when he gave me that look it meant he was in no mood for being helped to understand. However this was my first Potions class and I tried to help him anyway, “Sir, Nargles aren’t babbling nonsense. My father published a story about them in The Quibblerand,” I started.

The palm of the man’s hand slapped the desk just inches in front of me. “Twenty more points from Ravenclaw for insolence,” he said, showing a grin as if he’d won something.

I started to say something to him when he turned his head toward me and his eyes seemed to bore into my head. Suddenly, my head hurt and my ears rang. I looked at him and cleared my head. As I looked up, I saw the teacher had taken a step back to his lectern. He seemed to be surprised. I realized that somehow what I had done had blocked whatever he was doing. The scary man was looking at me with an unchanging gaze. He looked at me like someone struggling to comprehend a tough Arithmancy problem.

After a couple of seconds, he spoke in a loud voice to the class, “Take out your textbook and in silence read the first chapter. Any one who speaks will spend all Saturday afternoon in detention with me.”

I pulled out my book and pretended to read. I’d never met anyone like the poor Professor. He seemed so angry and alone. He needed someone to be his friend. When the school day was over, I wrote to my father to have him send The Quibbler article about the Nargle dung to Professor Snape. I knew that after he read the article he would apologize for being so rude and we could become friends.

Luna finished her story. He had fallen asleep long before the end of her tale. Yet she had kept on with the telling speaking softer and slower with each line. It was the same as when you keep singing a lullaby even after the child is asleep. She reached out and found her cellmates hand. The clamminess was gone. He could keep her blanket for tonight. She walked over and picked up the slim pillow and laid down a step from Mr. Ollivander.

In the morning, he would wake up and be angry with her for giving him her blanket. She smiled. If she ignored him at start, the argument might last all morning. The exercise would do them both good and it would be a fun way to waste half the day.

She closed her eyes. Suddenly an image blossomed of her mother, cat-like laying next to her on her parent’s large warm bed, singing a song and absent-mindedly stroking her hair. Luna could see the wreath of holly just above her mother’s clear, grey eyes and the ever present smile

The song she sang was a lullaby about a maid that went for a walk in the woods and found a knight whom had fallen into the mire and was drowning. The maid rescued the knight who was really the prince. The prince offered to marry her in thanks for her rescue. The maid refused, because she was in love with another. She had not saved him to gain a husband. She had saved him because she could help. As Luna listened to the song, her eyes grew heavy and she slowly fell asleep.