Disclaimer: not mine
Chapter 2
Harry walked slowly, forcing himself to walk as normally as he could with the brace on, not wanting to draw attention. He glanced up at the enchanted ceiling and then around until he spotted his brother who grinned at him and gave a thumbs up. Life had been crazy since his letter had arrived, between visits to Diagon Alley, Gringotts and then St Mungo's to get his vaccinations updated. Getting his wand had been incredible and at the same time, almost felt wrong, like he shouldn't need it? The magic in his dreams didn't need wands or spells…but that was just make believe anyway. His dreams weren't real after all, just his imagination trying to deal with his accident.
He'd thrown himself into learning all he could about the magical world and his family had helped. It had hurt, to know they had kept it all secret the entire time he'd been there and when pressed Mum Maria had admitted she'd been sworn to silence by Albus Dumbledore. That had made him doubt coming to the school, why keep the truth from him…and just how had he gotten from the hospital to the Jordan's? he now doubted he had been in the hospital the whole time, he had a strong suspicion that he had been taken to be healed magically, how else could he walk when he knew the doctors had believed he wouldn't?
Finding out the truth of his parents deaths had hurt but it explained a few things. Seeing his name in all of those books had angered him, someone was making a lot of money from his name…and how did they know what he looked like? It wasn't just books either, it was all sorts of stuff. They'd been exploiting him all the time he had been living like a slave. Where were the laws to protect minors from being exploited? After the first rush of excitement, he honestly wasn't sure he liked this hidden world all that much.
Harry quickly focused again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of them. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too, there had been nothing about the sorting in any of the books he'd read over the last month, surely a beaten up old hat wasn't involved? For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" The red haired boy who had tried to make him show off his scar snapped from nearby. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Harry sighed, a troll, seriously? Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him, or for those already becoming disillusioned with this strange world.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause -"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.
"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling, along with Lee who shot him an encouraging look. "Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor. "Granger, Hermione!" that was the bossy girl who'd been looking for a toad and had been upset when he suggested asking an older student to use a spell to find it. Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat and Ron groaned.
A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train? He took a deep breath and forced himself to think more positively, just like the therapist had taught him.
When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."
Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.
There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last - "Potter, Harry!"
As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited for something to happen, though he wasn't sure what exactly.
"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. A good mind too, curiosity in abundance, tempered by experience though. There's talent, ah my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting...very interesting dreams you have Mr Potter…better pay attention to them, dreams can be very important…a longing to belong…to learn more of the world…. So where shall I put you?"
Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" asked the voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you're sure - better be RAVENCLAW!"
Harry heard the hat shout out loud and pulled it off, only to find the hall silent and staring before those in black robes trimmed in blue and bronze began clapping and room was made for him with te other first years. He looked over at Lee who looked a little surprised but then grinned and began clapping.
He could see the High Table properly now, at the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who had brought them across in the boats. In the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore, Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted a Professor in a very peculiar in a large purple turban as well. It seemed the staff here was every bit as eccentric as Lee had claimed. He just hoped they were all good teachers.
And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, went to the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw with Harry and then it was Ron's turn, he was pale green by now. Harry watched and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Ron scurried over and collapsed at the table, obviously relieved. "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
Albus Dumbledore got to his feet, beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered.
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. "Is he - a bit mad?" he asked an older student uncertainly.
"Mad?" said Penelope asked, smiling in amusement. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?" she offered, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise.
The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. Wow!
He picked out food and tried to ignore all of the stares. He felt a bit like a bug under a microscope and he didn't like it at all. Thankfully, his housemates seemed to have manners enough to let him eat in peace. He kept his head down and finally the food was gone and Dumbledore was standing again.
"Ahern - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the redheaded twins sitting with Lee which made them Fred and George, Lee's best mates. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch," he paused, expression becoming serious as he looked out at them. "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Harry stared in horror, he'd almost had a painful death once already, he had no desire to go through another. "He's not serious?" he muttered to Penelope.
"Must be," she answered, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. "Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"
Harry tried not to cringe at the clashing notes and tunes as he read the words, he was not musical. Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march.
Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest. "Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Harry followed his housemates up into a tower, climbing a tight spiral staircase to find a door guarded by an eagle-shaped knocker which moved as they approached.
"Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?" It asked and Penelope nodded to the first years.
Harry hesitated but then spoke up. "I think the answer is that a circle has no beginning."
"Well reasoned," it praised as the door swung open, letting them into the common room.
Harry looked around at the graceful arched windows, the walls hung with blue and bronze silks and the painted domed ceiling covered with stars, echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. Tables, chairs, and bookcases covered the expanse of the floor, and a white-marble statue of who he recognised as Rowena Ravenclaw from Hogwarts: A History, sat next to the door that lead up to what he assumed were the dormitories. They stood around the fireplace as the prefects sorted themselves out.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw House. Our motto is wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure. As you will see, we have our own library and individual study areas, these are a privilege that can be revoked. Be down here by eight to be escorted back to the Great Hall for breakfast, which is where class timetables will be handed out. Our Head of House is Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick. He is a very fair teacher and always willing to help. Boys will be in the first room up the left, girls on the right. Your belongings will already be up there. Each dorm has its own bathroom, so you only have to share with your dormmates. The curtains around our bed have built in privacy charms, so remember to close them when you go to bed. Any questions?" after a brief wait he nodded. "Alright then, have a good night."
Harry followed the guys up and to their room, finding his bed easily with the trunk embossed with the Potter family crest. He's splurged on his trunk but his years with the Dursley's had taught him to protect his belongings, he would not be using the wardrobe against the wall. Over all he liked the look of the dorm, there was a wood stove in the middle of the semi-circular room for heat with lamps and candles scattered about to light the room well. The blue curtain hangings and bedding was calming, and the rugs were soft under foot. He grabbed his toiletries and ducked into the bathroom, claiming a shower stall. He sat on the ledge in there and pulled his robes off in order to remove his brace before stripping off the rest of the way and getting under the hot water. He scrubbed down, dried off and then hobbled back into the dorm room, trying not to limp.
"You okay?" he thought it was Terry Boot who asked.
"Yeah," he opened his trunk and put his brace in, getting his walking stick out to lean beside his bed, feeling the others watching him.
"A walking stick?" Michael Corner sounded shocked and Harry fought the urge to flinch. "Why do you have that?"
"Because I need it," he answered, frowning at the height of the bed, this was not going to be fun.
"But why?" Stephen Cornfoot asked in confusion. "Just go to St Mungo's."
Harry took a deep breath, "there's nothing anyone can do."
"What happened?" Terry asked kindly.
"I got hit by a car when I was eight, I nearly died. The damage to my spine…magic kept me alive and fixed some of the damage but not all. I don't like talking about it."
"Oh…" cue awkward silence.
"Can you get in and out of the bed?" Michael asked and Harry shrugged, shifting to try. "I'll get a prefect; they can do something." He left to find one of the prefects who frowned when he saw the walking stick.
"Need help with the bed?" he asked, and Harry nodded. "Right," he grabbed a log form the pile for the stove and swished his wand, transforming it into a step. "Can you use this for now? I'll talk to Professor Flitwick in the morning about arranging something safer and permanent."
"Thanks," Harry carefully climbed up into the fourposter bed.
"No problem, if you need help let us know….especially with all the stairs around here. Watch yourself on the main staircases, there are trick steps and they like to move around," he warned, and Harry nodded, suddenly rather nervous. "I'm Nick, juts holler if you need me." With that he left them to it.
"Thanks Michael," Harry whispered before shutting his curtains.
TBC…