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Just outside of the immense Great Hall, a short and smart looking young boy stood on his own waiting in a tense and nervous silence, having been told to hang back from the rest of the first years until a professor came out to sort him into one of the Hogwarts houses. Though he wasn't personally familiar with it, apparently this would be a slightly different routine to the usual tradition of standing in a long line in full view of the rest of the school, in front of the Head table with the rest of the first years. The board of school governor's had initially insisted that Jeffrey Caudwell be sorted during the ceremony along with every other first year and not be behind closed doors as they felt very strongly about tradition, but due to his highly unusual medical condition, a medi-wizard who fell in good standing with the board was granted the opportunity to make some small amendments in the boys sorting. An owl had fluttered through the open window of his privately reserved and locked off compartment on the Hogwarts Express during the journey to the school and had carried a hastily scribbled note that informed him of the arrangements.

He would be sorted in the Entrance Hall just after everyone else, but they had flat-out refused to exclude him from the proceedings completely and had insisted that he would participate by joining the other students at his house table in the very first feast of the year. In their infinite wisdom it was their opinion that once the main sorting was over and the students were all occupied with eating and conversing among their friends he, Jeffrey, would be able to slip in to the hall and take a seat among the others students and generally remain unnoticed by the masses and begin the adjustment process more comfortably. Obviously these so-called smart grown-ups didn't have a clue what they were talking about. Far from stealthily dropping a hand full of Galleons into the middle of a crowded hall and simply hoping that no one would notice, it was far more likely that many heads would turn and that people would see the lone figure walking in, instantly see his disfigurement and be unable to stop themselves from asking him questions about it as soon as he sat down ... It had already happened once when he had disembarked from the train and he had been rather unfriendly to the kid who had approached him, though no others had approached or spoke to him during the traditional trip across the lake,

He removed his tough white leather glove from his right hand and reached up, brushing his fingertips slowly back and forth across the Hogwarts crest on the breast-pocket of his finely tailored school robes, taking in the pleasant texture of the embroidery while taking another calming breath and stepping back up to the large door of the Great Hall, which he had managed, with a bit of effort, to open up a little earlier. He had been peering in through the narrow crack every few minutes as he heard the names being read out and houses being bellowed from the fold in the ancient sorting hat which was being placed on all of the first years heads one after the other. He had been drawn back to the door now as he heard the noise level begin to rise as people began to converse among themselves. The feast had started and spying the professor carrying the grimy looking hat down the centre aisle between the tables, Jeffrey retreated from the doorway, slipping his white leather glove back onto his hand. Why bother changing the arrangements at all? What had they been thinking? He had been in isolation for over five years and now they planned on throwing him straight into a room with hundreds of other kids. His glazed blood red eyes stared at the doorway, he took a shivering breath, the scars that lined his face only enhanced the frown he had plastered there.

The door had opened up the rest of the way as the professor had strolled through it, the ragged sorting hat still swinging at his side and the stool under his arm and once he had passed through the door of the Great Hall, it swung closed behind him bringing the dull roar of sound coming from within to a minuit and muffled hum.

Jeffrey had backed up quite a way from the door before the Headmaster had exited the Great Hall and now stood a fair distance away, un-moving just a few feet away from one of the many enchanted suits of armour that lined the corridors of the school, his gloved hands clasped together tightly in front of him feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, being the focus of the professors attention. He had been trying to calm himself for weeks since he had received his Hogwarts letter in preparation for the moment that he would enter the school and now that it had come, he felt as though his nerves had only tightened ten-fold.

From the moment the man had come into his presence and despite being addressed in such a pleasant manner, his narrowed stare darted nervously at the area around the Headmaster rather than directly at him, each quick glance betraying an undeniable look of suspicion, and keeping direct eye contact as brief as he possible could, though from another persons point of view, it was almost impossible to tell exactly which direction he was looking in through his blood filled eyes and was just as difficult to gauge his expression past the scars. He was a little frightened that he might expect a handshake, but was relieved when he spoke, his words confirming that he knew better than to make such a gesture.

He was silent for a moment, taking a long time to take in Professor Witchard's welcome before he finally responded, lowering his head for a moment, his gloved hands slackening only slightly to fall to his side and in his effort to try and start making a good first impression, he made a respectful bow to the man, though his eyes kept a wary stare around the man's feet. "Thank you, sir." he whispered timidly, his voice shivering slightly, "for going through the trouble as well ..." he glanced now at the closed door behind the man, the time was rushing by in his head, "What must I do now, sir?" he asked raising his head a little.

Taking another calming but shuddered breath, he looked on as the professor placed the simple looking stool on the stone floor that looked almost as worn-in as the grimy looking sorting hat that now hovered just a few feet over it, the illusion of a furrowed brow and invisible eyes staring down at the boy ahead of it. Swallowing lightly, his mouth now feeling very dry, his hands rose back from his sides and came to clasp one another once again. In all honesty he had known what to do, his father had once told him about the talking hat and that it selected houses, but in his own mind, every second that he was out here in the Entrance Hall was another free second that he wasn't in the hall with all those other people. As he began to walk toward the stool with the professor holding the hat aloft, his face screwed up in a mix of determination and disgust, partly out of forcing himself into moving forward and partly out of the thought of having that filthy looking hat placed down upon his clean and very well groomed head.

Though he still felt very nervous, as he neared the stool, his eyes kept sweeping over the man and he began to feel a faint glimmer of gratitude toward him. He guessed that, in an effort to make him feel more comfortable, the professor was giving him as wide a berth as he could. As he covered the distance up toward him, a number of random people's laughs echoed out from within the Great Hall ... Someone had said or done something very funny and the noise had raised the hairs on the back of Jeffrey's neck. He shuffled to an uncomfortable halt, shivering just a few steps away from his goal, looking around the empty hall, a flicker of indecision invading his mind as though hoping another option was just going to jump out at him. Only a moment passed before taking another breath and lifting what felt like lead-weighted shoes the few remaining steps, the last of which as resolutely as he could. Turning on the spot and unclasped his hands to reach up and haul himself onto the seat, that was a lot higher than he had first thought. His breathing had gotten rather shallow as he sat down and once he was as comfortable as he was going to get, he sat trembling slightly and waited, his head turning slightly upward a foreboding grimace on his face.