The start of term hadn't exactly gone to plan. The viaduct have been destroyed causing the Hogwarts Express to plummet into the dark depths of the Black Lake and James Blood's werewolf pack had, once again, invaded the grounds - on a full moon too. Many students had been injured, some had died from the crash and some had drowned in an attempt to reach the lake's surface for air. Witches and wizards from all over had come to the aid of Hogwarts during this catastrophe, their work was appreciated but everyone in the Great Hall held scars. Physical reminders and mental reminders. The start of Hogwarts, year 2027, would never be forgotten. Ever.
Some parents had arrived at the scene and taken their children home, disgusted at how the rouge band of werewolves had infiltrated the grounds. Others had remained and were sitting among the students for the duration of the feast - Professor Cooper could hardly deny them food and warmth after their remarkable efforts. House Elves, whom had been wandering around the Great Hall helping the heals heal minor injuries and carrying refreshments, had returned to the kitchens to continue the finishing touches of the feast. Somewhere in the distance the clock tower sounded, on the hour, for the second time that evening. The feast should have started two hours ago.
To the students it was clear who hadn't survived the ambush. Their friends, who'd been wrapped in black sheets, had been moved inside the castle and into a chamber off the entrance Hall for ministry officials to identify (thankfully as any members of staff would most likely find it too difficult). One thing that wasn't obvious was that some first years hadn't made it safely to the castle. They were yet to make friends, yet to find home at Hogwarts and the sorting ceremony was yet to start.
First years were lining along the teachers table, all facing a wooden stool where a battered old hat sat. As usual the rim of the hat opened, revealing a mouth, and after a minute of singing about the different houses the hat went on to inform the school of the dangers of the Blood Pack, the dangers of unrest brewing in the country and that the only way to get through would be to stand alongside each other, to forget the houses and maintain friendships with people from other common rooms. It didn't give a message often but there were times in history where the sorting hat felt it's duty for the safety of the school. Tonight was one of those nights.
The sound of the applause wasn't enthusiastic, in fact it was perhaps the quietest clapping Amelia Cooper had heard in her life. This was understandable owing to the events of the evening. People were grieving, injured, in shock, worried, scared, confused, hungry? Maybe not all were hungry, being attacked by werewolves and thrown into an icy lake sort of ruins your appetite.
Collecting the scroll of the names of the first years Amelia approached the sorting hat, lifting it from the school and called out the first name: 'Bartimus Arrowbeam.' Ten seconds passed and no Bartimus walked forward, the other first years looked between each other, a few shifting on the spot.
'Bartimus Arrowbeam?' Amelia called again, smiling hopefully to the faces of the first years - most of which looked away when they saw her face, some weren't even staring or paying any attention to her but looking down. It then became apparent to Amelia that Bartimus Arrowbeam wasn't going to be sorted into a house tonight, he perhaps hadn't even made it to the castle...
The Hall was silent. There was a slight draft that could be felt through the open doors of The Great Hall. The overhead candles were flickering down upon the gloomy faces of students. They too understood what the absence of Bartimus Arrowbeam mean't.
Giving a minutes thought Amelia felt her heart breaking further. She should have worked harder, she should have, have... she shouldn't have done anymore than what she did. The loss of the students couldn't have been helped. Every single staff member at Hogwarts, every student, every ministry official, every single person who'd arrived to help had done everything in their power to prevent the lives of students being taken. It just hadn't been enough. Amelia made a mental note to mention that in the speech after the sorting ceremony but another thought had crossed her mind: How many more first years would have their name read out and not be sorted into a house?
Abandoning the scroll Amelia moved to the edge of the line to a small girl, perhaps the smallest first year that there was and looked down, lowering her body slightly.
'What's your name dear?' Amelia asked Poppy Levski. The Professor wouldn't use the list instead she'd work her way along the line, asking students their name then having them walk to the stool and sitting beneath the sorting hat.
(OOC: Hey Khaat, feel free to GM Amelia placing the hat on Poppy's head etc. Also if any first years do want to be sorted send me a PM so I know to include you!)