Meaghan faded away and I was left floating in the air. Then, slowly but surely, I began to drop, gaining speed. As I headed for the roof I instinctively covered my eyes but I didn’t crash through. Instead, I landed facedown with a thunk on a cold stone floor. I heard a woman gasp and I raised my head up slowly. An aged woman with her hair pulled up in a tight and forbidding bun was staring at me. I jumped up and took in my bearings as my cheek throbbed from my less then graceful landing.
“Who are you?” The woman asked curiously.
“Mios nommo esto Dovais. I mean, my name is Dana. Dana… Dana Wray.” I quickly changed languages and she raised her eyebrows. “Could I see the chargo? The headmaster?”
Without a word, she swept along the corridor. I followed as she led me to a huge griffin statue.
“Lintj.” She uttered briskly. There was a winding staircase and I climbed on, thoughts running through my already cluttered head. Who was this? Why was I going to see the Headmaster? Why did I want to? And what language was I speaking?
Dana. A clear voice whispered in my head. I took a step backwards in alarm and hit the woman, who frowned disapprovingly.
“Sorry.” I whispered before listening again.
This is Meaghan. Questioning my advice is not part of this. I am here to aid you and to answer any questions. The language you were speaking is the language of us, of Dovais. Your name, Dana, is a direct translation of Dovie. You must be cautious when speaking right now, as your brain has not adjusted to the full expectations of English. Some can understand Dovais, but they would have to be singularly gifted and a past descendant of a Dovie. Now, sin dios mel donna. Ni shotso mios nommo Dana Wray. Ella cinquo yendria. Vendo nascheas. Ne compto biento. Sios. (Translation – Now, listen to my plans. Do not forget your name is Dana Wray. She has a specific age. Do not give out any information. Do not mess this up. Goodbye.)
After that rather confusing talk with the inside of my head, I felt a hand push me into a study. A man with a long auburn beard sat behind a desk. Beside him sat a crooning phoenix – a figure I knew for its longtime existence in the heathens. He motioned for me to sit down with one of his hands; the other was busy writing on a piece of ripped and torn parchment. I sat down calmly in the hard wooden chair, envying the headmaster’s comfy plush armchair. He put down his quill and looked at me.
“I’m sorry, dear girl, but Professor Dippet, the headmaster, is not here right now. Do you wish to speak to him or to me?” The man asked me.
“You, sir. I wished to… to ask you questions about Hogwarts. I am a new student here, 6th year, and I felt necessary that I found you right away. I’m sorry, forgive my rudeness. I’m Dana Wray.” I paused for breath.
“I am Professor Dumbledore, Miss Wray.” Professor Dumbledore said. He seemed to be suspicious and was looking at me penetratingly with his light blue eyes. I tried to hold his gaze, but there was something almost unnerving about it. When he leaned back into his chair, I could’ve sworn he knew what I was, for his eyes were twinkling with a secret. I squirmed uncomfortably as Meaghan hissed in my head.
Dana! Stop that immediately! These are mediocre humans, you should not be displaying elements of discomfort, you’re being a disgrace to -
Shut up Meaghan!
Did you just tell me to cunnos? To shut up? Dovie, if I did not do violence… You have got to be one of the cheekiest people I have ever met. Do you know that with a snap of my fingers, I could have you taming the Untamable? I could kill you! But I won’t because, unfortunately, I am against killing. Now bite your tongue Dovais, before you get us into more trouble.
“…Dana?” I snapped back to away from my head and the angered Dovie inside it, back to reality. Professors Dumbledore and Hethley were both staring at me.
“Pardon me, sir, I was lost in thought. My, uh, parents died recently and – “ I balanced tears on the end of my long eyelashes. “ – I am very devastated. I have had to leave my beloved school, um, Beauxbatons, and I am very often thinking about both. Could you repeat that?”
“First of all, I am very sorry about your parents, Miss Wray. Second, what I asked, is do you wish to be Sorted now in private, or in front of the school?”
His blue eyes twinkled with mirth at me as I turned a pale colour, if not green. Dovie or not, I – hated - audiences. Especially in front of my future peers.
“Here, please, sir.” I said quietly as a flush coloured my pale cheeks.
Professor Dumbledore got up and went to a shelf where nothing but a ragged and patched hat sat and a ring sat. My eyes lingered on the ring for more than just a moment, studying it deeply, because, for some reason, it was giving off a most peculiar aura. It had an aura of deepest sadness, of murder, of angst; of love, of happiness, of laughter…
Somehow it frightened me more than facing God himself, scared me more than the expectations of what I was supposed to do. A horrible and terrible, yet magnificent and amazing power lay in that ring, and I must admit, my curiosity was peaked. I heard Meaghan inhale sharply inside my head.
Dovais, that ring – be careful! That is the Ring Of –
“Miss Wray?” Professor Dumbledore was holding out the hat to me. I gave a start and pulled my gaze off the ring and my mind off Meaghan. He gently placed the Sorting Hat on my head. Another voice echoed in my head, but it wasn’t the voice of Meaghan – it was rather hoarse and scratchy.
Ahh…. Ah…. Dear me, you are no human! Tell me, Dovie, Angel, why are you here?
I jumped onto my feet and gasped.
Sit back down. Listen to me, I’ve had some like you before. You can choose your house or let me choose. Well?
A different voice came into my head and I rubbed it angrily.
Dovais. Choose Slytherin. Just listen to me and don’t cut me off. I’ll tell you later. It has something to do with the Ring Of –
I cut her off by thinking, ‘Slytherin! Please, oh please!’ Something told me not to know what that ring meant and what it had to do with me. I didn’t want another burden.
“Slytherin.” The Sorting Hat said slyly.
I looked at their faces. Hethley’s was full of shock, obviously at me being in this quite evil house. But Dumbledore’s gaze was penetrating. It was like he was trying to figure out what I was doing.
His gaze moved to the pearl ring slowly and I followed. There were words etched around the band and they were brightening with a light that was not one reflecting from the sun outside, nor from the lamp beside it. The words were in a curly script, possibly in a different language. Before I had a chance to read it all Dumbledore looked back at me, his face full of wonder, and, for a fleeting second, I thought I saw fear.
I looked back at the ring, but the only word I caught surprised me, because I understood it. It scared me. Suddenly I realized why I didn’t want to find out about this ring. Another piece for the puzzle as the word gradually translated it in my head. A gasp escaped my lips and my eyes read it, over and over again.