Chapter 2

The Sorting Hat

Hagrid clambered out of his boat which bobbed ominously, nearly dunking below the rippling surface, smoothed his wild gray streaked beard, and knocked three times on the large wooden door. A tall dark haired man with a round, deeply scared face opened the door. Al knew him, but he almost stepped backwards into the boat at the sight of him. He had never seen anyone look so strict.

"The firs' years, Professor Longbottom," said Hagrid.

"Thank-you, Professor Hagrid," Professor Longbottom's black robes billowed in the light breeze, silhouetted by the light glow from the doorway, as he spoke: "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor Longbottom. This way please." He turned and led them across the flagstone Entrance Hall and into a small chamber off of the hall. Their shoes, still damp from the lake, squeaked on the smooth floor.

Al glanced around the Entrance Hall before entering the smaller chamber and noticed that Professor Hagrid had turned and gone through a different door. The door must have led to the Great Hall, because the drone of voices had grown slightly louder when the door was opened. Professor Longbottom gathered them around and closed the door behind them.

He started to tell about the four houses-- Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor-- and the sorting process, but Al didn't pay much attention having already drilled his parents on it so many times that he could have given the description speech himself.

In what seemed like almost no time at all they were being led out into the Great Hall in alphabetical order. An old pointed wizard's hat was sitting on a four legged stool in front of the House tables. Professor Longbottom led them up in front of the school and they lined up behind the hat, which had opened a rip near its brim like a mouth and started to sing:

"Oh you may not find me pretty,

But you'll find I'm rather witty

You'll learn there is no greater sight

Than when our four Houses do unite

A thousand years or more ago

Before old Slytherin decided to blow

They shared a wish and a dream to teach

And formed their own houses, one for each

Slytherin(it bent to the Slytherins) favored the ambitious and the cunning

Gryffindor (it bowed to the Gryffindors) the brave at heart with nerve and daring

Hufflepuff (it flicked its tip to the beat) liked the loyal, patient, and hard working

Ravenclaw (it bowed, bent, and flicked) those of ready minded wit and learning

And though the founders are all dead

I can see inside your head,

So I may choose instead

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

Please watch the flap

And try me on for—

I've never once been wrong!"

The students burst into applause as the hat bowed to each table and fell still.

"Alright, the sorting process will now begin," announced Professor Longbottom, "When I call your name you will come up and put on the Sorting Hat." He pulled out a long list. "Ackerley, Jillian" a girl with a heart-shaped face and freckles stumbled forward. She sat for a moment with the hat over her eyes before the hat called:

"Gryffindor!"

"Alderton, Cole!"

"Slytherin!"

"Bagnold, Bill" sat on the stool for what seemed like a full ten minutes before the hat yelled "Hufflepuff!" "Creevey, Emily" soon followed him and "Jewkes, Daphne" became the first Ravenclaw.

"Krum, Breanne!"

"Slytherin!"

Al recognized her as the girl from the boat. "Harkiss"… "Harris"… "Hopkirk"…"Llewellyn"… the P's were getting closer, his legs felt like they had turned to lead.

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

The hat took awhile to decide, Al began to think how funny it would be if Scorpius ended up in anything other than Slytherin. Then he was almost sure the hat was going to put Scorpius in Gryffindor and send him to Slytherin.

"Slytherin!"

Malfoy walked away to the Slytherin table looking relieved.

"Ogden, Sarah!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Philpott, Randolph!"

"Slytherin!"

And then finally—

"Potter, Albus!"

Al walked forward to the stool and caught his brother's eye as he sat down. James smiled at him and mouthed Slytherin. His last comforting thought before the Sorting Hat fell over his eyes was that if anyone in his family belonged in Slytherin, it was his brother. Al stared at the dark inside of the hat, feeling as though he had eaten slugs for lunch instead of a sandwich.

"Interesting," the hat whispered in his ear, "another Potter. Your father and mother both did well in Gryffindor, but you seem to think you might do better in Slytherin. Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness; I think it had better be—"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Al grinned and feeling relieved hurried off to the Gryffindor table before the hat could change its mind. Fred scooted down to make room and clamped him on the back, "Glad you changed your mind about Slytherin mate; we would have missed you!"

There weren't many people left to be sorted now. "Scamander, Lysander" was sorted into Ravenclaw, just like he had wanted. "Vance, Violet" joined them at the Gryffindor table. "Viridian, Wendy" went Ravenclaw. Then:

"Weasley, Rose!"

Al slid over a bit to make room for her.

"RAVENCLAW!"

He couldn't believe it. Rose glanced back at the Gryffindor table, caught his eye, and gave him a small wave as she walked over to join Lysander and the rest of the cheering Ravenclaws. "Zeller, Melanie" became a Hufflepuff and Professor Longbottom rolled up the list. He flicked his wand at the stool and hat, which vanished, and then took his seat at the staff table. The headmaster had gotten to his feet.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he said. "Let the banquet begin!"

"I like Headmaster Hobday," said Christopher as the hefty headmaster sat down, "his start of term speeches get shorter every year."

"He's an improvement from old McGonagall. She was a good professor, but she was getting long winded towards the end." Said Fred conversationally, "Potatoes, Al?"

"Where's Nearly Headless Nick?" a third asked. Al looked around and sure enough there was no sign of a ghost at the Gryffindor table.

"Rumor has it he moved on," a sixth year boy called down the table, "He finally got accepted to join the Headless Hunt at the end of last year, guess it was the final push he needed."

"So who is the Gryffindor ghost now?" asked a first year girl with dark brown hair, who Al thought was named Violet Vance.

"Don't have one," Dan explained shortly between mouthfuls of something that was no longer recognizable.

"We asked Filch to be our ghost," Christopher told them.

"But he was disinclined to accept our request," Fred finished.

"He said he would rather die a thousand horrible deaths than be associated with a house full of dung bomb wielding brats like us," said Christopher with a pleased smirk. "Guess he would know, his death was awful."

"Tell the story of how he died," Dan insisted through a mouthful of potatoes. "I love hearing that story."

"It wouldn't be the start of term feast without it," James agreed.

"You tell it better than I do, Fred," Christopher told him.

"Alright," said Fred, pushing his plate away and clearly in his element as the first years leaned in to hear better and conversations dropped to whispers so that they could all hear.

"It all started on a dark and stormy day in mid April, with nothing exceptionally abnormal about it. Divination was almost over, which was a good thing because half the class had fallen asleep, and Professor Trelawney fell into a trance. Her voice grew really deep and her head fell forward into her cup of tea. Before she woke she prophesied that: there would be one who would haunt us through history, one who would perform magic late in life.

"We didn't know what to make of it until that night. Filch was chasing Peeves, toilet paper and bubblegum were everywhere from the Great Hall to the Owlery. Filch was sure that Peeves had finally done it; he wouldn't get away with it this time. He and his cat, Mrs. Norris, tracked him to the top of the North Tower, but he wasn't there.

"Just as Filch turned to go back down the stairs, he tripped over Mrs. Norris. He teetered for a moment before falling headfirst down the stairs; he rolled all the way to the dungeons. They probably wouldn't have found his body until the morning, if his ghost hadn't turned up ranting about Peeves in the headmistress's office.

"Leaving behind the imprint of his departed soul was the only magic Filch ever performed. Guess the Kwikspell courses paid off. Mrs. Norris died a week after; she followed him everywhere, even to the afterlife. Now they can haunt the corridors together. Needless to say, Divination enrollment has gone way up."

A shiver ran through the listening first years as they all looked over at the glowering and ghostly Filch.

"People say that was the last straw for old McGonagall," Christopher added. "She retired that year."

Conversations rippled down the table as they turned their attention back to the feast and their friends. After they were all stuffed to the limit and the platters were cleared, Professor Hobday got to his feet again and began to speak: "There are just a few start of term reminders I would like to remind you of. The Forbidden Forest is still forbidden to all students. There are several banned objects such Fanged Frisbees—"

Fred pulled one out from under his robe and held it up. Professor Hobday flicked his wand and the Fanged Frisbee flew to him, "A Fanged Frisbee. If you would like to check the compete list, it can be found by asking Filch," he gestured to the glowering ghostly form of Filch, "or Winky, our head house-elf. You may also ask your house prefects or our head boy and Girl." Victoire and a boy at the Hufflepuff table stood up.

"Classes will begin in the morning, so I suggest you all get a full night's sleep. That's all, good night." He pushed in his chair and the rest of the staff and students began to climb to their feet.

"Christopher," Victoire hissed. "Get your prefect's badge on! You are supposed to be showing the first years to the dormitory."

Christopher grimaced, much to his dad's and brother's horror and Victoire's glee, he had been made a prefect this year. He pulled the badge out of his pocket. Up until now he had completely ignored receiving it.

"I thought we had agreed we were going to return that thing," said Fred. Christopher shrugged and pinned it on.

"Gryffindor first years, over here! This way to the dormitory!" he shouted. Victorire grinned happily.

"I guess duty calls," Fred sighed and pulled his own badge out of his pocket. "Quidditch Captain" was printed on it in bold gold letters. He pulled a small firework out of his pocket and lit it with his wand. It screeched all the way up to the enchanted ceiling and exploded over the crowded entrance hall, spelling out in vivid colors: "Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts 9/15; be there, Captain's Orders!"

Al ran to catch up with Christopher with Lee Llewellyn, also a Gryffindor first year, following close at his heels. Panting, they caught up with him near the middle of the marble staircase, it was lucky they had, because at the top he ducked into a secret passageway behind a painting of a bearded lady. They filed in behind him and out the other end.

"Shouldn't we go back for the others Chris?" asked Al, realizing that Christopher seemed to have left behind at least half of the first years. Christopher turned around and counted them.

"Nah, Victoire and the others will round up the rest of the midgets." He led them up to a portrait of a fat lady in a glamorous pink dress. "By the way the password is domi adsum."

The portrait swung forward, revealing the portrait hole. Christopher showed them into the round common room, which was lit by a crackling fire and filled with comfortable looking armchairs, and he pointed them off to their separate dormitories. Al raced with Lee and Rodger Gudgeon across the common room, to the annoyance of a few of the older students, and up to their dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower. Chris collapsed into the nearest chair, apparently exhausted by his prefect duties.

The three of them reached the door at the same time and burst through, tripping over each other, unsure who had won. Their trunks had already been brought up and placed at the feet of their four poster beds. They changed and got ready for bed, sleepily talking about Quidditch teams, classes, and nothing at all. Two of the other first year boys hadn't turned up yet. But Al was too tired to worry much about it. He fell comfortably into his four poster bed and was soon asleep.