The massive door slowly swung open to reveal a tall black haired witch in emerald green robes waiting for them. Harry recognized her stern face from the many stories that Sirius and Remus had told him about their years at Hogwarts. This had to be Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Sirius claimed her bark was much worse than her bite, but Harry was hard pressed to believe that from the expression on her face.
"Here are the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the large man.
"Thank you, Hagrid," said the stern looking Professor. "I'll take them from here."
Harry was completely distracted by the sights and sounds of the castle around him. There was a sense of history that overwhelmed him as he followed the stern woman into the Entrance Hall of the school. The Hall was so large that Harry thought it could hold his entire house, and still have room left over. As they walked through the hall, Harry heard a low jumble of voices coming from behind a pair of large doors. Obviously, the other students were already inside and waiting for them. The professor guided the new students into a smaller room off to the side of the hall.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the Professor. "The start of term feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses. The sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your houses will be something like your family within Hogwarts."
Professor McGonagall stopped suddenly as her eyes fell on Harry. She seemed to recognize him, and Harry thought for just an instant he saw the corners of her mouth twitch upward into a smile. Then she seemed to collect herself and clearing her throat, she continued with her speech. The Professor told them about how points were assigned or deducted from house totals based upon their behavior and accomplishments. She also told them about the House Cup that was awarded at the end of the year based upon the house points. Harry had been more interested in the concept of the four houses and he remembered his uncles telling him how they had been in Gryffindor, as had his parents. After Professor McGonagall left, Harry turned to Ron and Neville to see if they knew anything about the Sorting ceremony.
"Well," said Ron, his face looking pale, "Fred and George said it was rather painful, but I think they were just winding me up."
"My Gran said that it was a very serious ceremony and determined how people saw you for the rest of your life," added Neville as he tried to fix his cloak.
Neither answer really made Harry feel any better about the Sorting, and now he had images floating through his mind that were filled with screaming and people turning away from him. He was trying not to become sick from the butterflies in his stomach when he heard a girl scream. Harry spun around, seeing a large group of glowing translucent figures floating through the wall and over their heads. One of the figures, a jolly-looking man in a monks robe stopped and looked down at the children below him.
"Oh, hello," said the friendly-looking figure of the monk. "What are you all doing here?"
"We're waiting to be sorted, sir," Harry said firmly as he stepped in front of the other students.
"Oh, how marvelous," beamed the silvery figure. "I do hope that some of you will be sorted into my house."
Harry wanted to ask what house that was when the ghosts, for Harry assumed that was what they were, seemed to forget all about them and floated on through the wall without another word. It was a rather strange feeling to talk with someone that was long dead, and at the same time it made Harry sad to think that his parents were dead and he had never been able to talk with them. As he turned to ask Neville and Ron about the ghosts, Harry noticed that many of the students were looking at him with something akin to awe on their faces.
"What's everyone looking at?" he asked as he looked around at the others.
"I imagine they are all quite impressed that you faced those ghosts so bravely, Harry" Hermione said in a strangely uptight voice. "Obviously they do not realize that ghosts cannot harm the living."
"Shows what you know," mumbled Ron.
"Did you say something?" asked Hermione, glaring at Ron.
"I think he asked if it was almost time to go," answered Neville quickly.
Harry had to fight hard not to laugh out loud at the look on Hermione's face, or the fact that Neville had thought of a way to cover Ron's comment so fast. In either case, Harry found it very funny and for a time he managed to forget his own fears about the upcoming sorting that he still felt on the like a weight on the back of his neck. Looking around, Harry saw that many of the children around him were looking just as nervous as he felt.
"Hey," Harry called out to the frightened looking students around him, trying to sound braver than he really felt. "What are you all so nervous about?"
"What do you care, Potter," sneered Malfoy.
Whatever else Draco was about to say, it was drowned out as the students around Harry all crowded forward. The room was suddenly filled with babbling voices as everyone tried to ask if Harry was indeed THE Harry Potter. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall chose just that moment to lead the first year students into the Great Hall for the sorting. All thoughts of questions and celebrity were pushed from Harry's mind as he followed the stern looking woman.
Once they entered the Great Hall, Harry felt his jaw drop at the sight that awaited him. The room was enormous, and seemed to have no ceiling as Harry found himself looking up at the starlit sky far above. That was not the only thing that caught Harry's eye. There were also hundreds of candles floating in the air, just like at home. Then there were the four long tables that ran from one end of the room to the other, finally stopping before a raised area where the teachers sat at yet another long table. Despite all of this, Harry could vaguely make out Hermione whispering about enchanted ceilings and such, but Harry was not listening to her. His concentration was on Albus Dumbledore.
Sitting on a golden chair at the center of the teachers' table sat the man that had almost sent him to live with the Dursleys. He looked kind enough as he smiled out at the students with his eyes twinkling behind his half moon spectacles. Still, Harry remembered his uncle saying that Dumbledore would sacrifice his own family to achieve a noble goal, and that thought made Harry more nervous than any sorting ceremony ever could.
Harry's attention was drawn to the sight of Professor McGonagall carrying a small stool and a tattered old wizard's hat out into the center of the platform. Something about the frayed and dirty old hat reminded him of his Uncle Remus. Many times when his uncle returned from one of his business trips he would be a little worse for wear, and the hat looked like something his uncle would wear on one of those occasions. With that image in mind, suddenly the Sorting ceremony seemed far less scary. A feeling that was reinforced a moment later when a rip in the hat suddenly opened like a mouth, and the hat began to sing.
"Oh you may not think me 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 folks 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 hall suddenly filled with sound as the students, and many of the teachers, applauded the hat's song. Harry started laughing as he watched the hat's pointed tip bowing to each of the tables in turn. Harry could hear Ron mumbling to Neville about how he had been told by his brothers that they had to wrestle a troll. Harry started laughing again, glad that he would never have to do something so foolish as wrestle a troll. If all they had to do was try on the hat, Harry felt he had nothing to worry about.
"What house are your brothers in?" Harry whispered to Ron.
"Gryffindor," Ron whispered back. "My whole family has been in Gryffindor."
"Then that's the house for me," Harry said with a wide grin.
"What if the hat doesn't think you are brave enough for Gryffindor?" Neville said looking nervously at Harry.
Harry put a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder and smiled. "You stood up to those three prats on the train, Neville. In my book that makes you more than brave enough."
Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, a long roll of parchment in her hand. "When I call your name, you will come forward and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah."
Name after name was called, and Harry watched as one student after another stepped up and placed the hat upon their heads. Sometimes the hat seemed to make up its mind immediately, calling out the name of the house the student was to join. Other times the hat took rather a long time, as if it were debating where that particular student belonged.
"Brown, Lavender," called the Professor.
Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor of the night, and the students at the far left table roared with excitement as she walked over to join the cheering table. Harry hoped he would be received as warmly when he was chosen, not because he was afraid he would not be picked for Gryffindor, but because he had never had anyone pick him back at home. He had always been an outsider at home because of the secrets he kept, but now he was amongst people like himself and he hoped that would make all the difference.
All of this was playing through his mind until he heard Professor McGonagall call Hermione's name. The bushy haired girl ran forward and rammed the hat down upon her head with such force that Harry thought she might rip the brim right off. A moment later the hat called out to the room that Hermione was a Gryffindor, and Harry heard Ron groan. Harry could only laugh softly at her obvious excitement as she made her way to the Gryffindor table.
When Neville's name was called, Harry leaned over quickly and whispered, "Save Ron and me a seat at the Gryffindor table, okay?"
"Right," Neville whispered back, walking confidently towards the stool.
Sure enough, Neville had barely placed the hat upon his head when the hat called out. "Gryffindor!"
Neville stood back up with a wide grin on his face, then setting the hat back down on the stool he walked over to the Gryffindor table. Harry and Ron both laughed as the smiling boy looked over at them and grinned even wider. True to his word, Neville sat down near Hermione and made sure that there were two open seats left for Harry and Ron.
"Malfoy, Draco," the Professor called out a few minutes later.
Harry watched as the pale young man sauntered up towards the stool and took a seat. He had barely even set the hat upon his head when it nearly screamed that Malfoy had gotten his wish. With a sneer, Malfoy walked over to the table on the far right of the room and took a seat. Harry noticed that the students sitting at the Slytherin table all looked rather proud of themselves for some reason, barely looking at the other tables as they sat talking amongst themselves. More than that, they all reminded Harry of the bullies he had dealt with for most of his life. That thought in his mind, Harry vowed that should the hat try to make him join the Slytherin house, he would immediately leave Hogwarts and never return.
Harry looked around and watched as several more students were called for sorting. Standing in the midst of the quickly diminishing collection of new students, Harry watched two twin girls being called. Each girl went to a different house, one joining Ravenclaw while the other became a Gryffindor. Harry was about to ask Ron about that when he suddenly realized that he was next in line to be called.
"Potter, Harry," called Professor McGonagall.
The room instantly went quiet at the sound of Harry's name. He watched heads turning towards him from every table in the room. Even the Slytherins took notice of him. It was actually rather disturbing to suddenly be at the center of so much attention, but Harry took a deep breath and confidently made his way up to the stool. Taking a seat, Harry lifted the battered hat up onto his head and let if fall down over his eyes.
Well, well, Mr. Potter. So you are the one who told Mr. Longbottom that he was brave enough to be in Gryffindor, said a voice inside Harry's head.
"Well he is," Harry replied in a whisper. "He faced those bullies even though he was scared. I would say that's brave enough."
So would I, Mr. Potter, said the hat, sounding rather amused. Now the question becomes, where should I put you?
"If it's alright with you," said Harry, "I would like to be in Gryffindor with my friends."
Gryffindor you say. Why not Slytherin?
"I'll leave if you put me in Slytherin," Harry said firmly. "They all look like…"
Like the bullies you grew up being tormented by? Not to worry, Mr. Potter, I don't think you would fit in very well in Slytherin. You also showed courage standing up to those bullies today, and once again tonight when you faced your fear of the ghosts and put yourself between them and the other students. With courage like that, I think you had best be in…
"Gryffindor!" finished the hat, calling out the last word to the rest of the room.
Harry could not believe the reaction he got from the Gryffindor table. Neville was standing on his seat, shouting loudly. All the while the Weasley twins were doing a little dance and shouting, "We got Potter!" as they spun themselves around. As Harry took a seat next to Neville, the other Weasley boy that he had seen on the platform reached over and shook Harry's hand rather formally. All in all, Harry could not remember a more exciting moment in his life, unless it was the day he received his first letter from Ginny.
"You were right, Harry," Neville said to him as the crowd quieted down. "The hat told me when I put it on that you were right, and that I was brave enough for Gryffindor."
"I told you," smiled Harry, clapping Neville on the shoulder.
As Harry waited for Ron to join them, he looked up at the teachers' table again. In all the excitement earlier, he had not really looked closely at it. There sat Dumbledore, watching the sorting intently, but Harry had the feeling that the old wizard was looking at him when Harry turned away. Harry was curious about the strange impression but at that moment Ron was called up to be sorted. Ron looked extremely pale as he walked up and took a seat on the stool, placing the hat upon his head. Harry almost laughed aloud as the hat immediately called out that Ron was best suited for Gryffindor. Ron was grinning as he walked over to the Gryffindor table as the last new student was called up for his sorting.
"Congratulations," said Ron's older brother as the youngest Weasley boy sat down next to Harry.
"I'm starving," was Ron's reply, but Harry could see that the tips of Ron's ears were turning red.
The older Weasley brother, Harry thought his name was Percy, looked ready to say something to Ron but stopped when they saw Dumbledore finally stand. The old professor looked as if he was the happiest man in the world as he stood and looked out at the students in front of him.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," said the old man in a firm but cheerful voice. "Before we begin our feast, I would like to say a few words, and here they are. Nitwit, blubber, oddment, and tweak. Thank you."
Without another word, Dumbledore sat back down. Harry thought it must be some odd sort of joke but before he could ask anyone about it, the golden plates in front of him filled with heaping piles of steaming food. All of Harry's favorite foods were arranged along the table and he could not wait to have some of every bit of it. The smell alone was enough to make Harry's mouth water. Harry filled his plate, sampling a bit of everything he could reach, all the while listening to the conversations around him.
"That does look good," said the ghost of a man in a ruffled collar.
"Can't you eat?" asked Ron through a mouthful of food.
"I haven't eaten in nearly five hundred years," replied the ghost sadly.
Harry was not really paying attention to the ghost's plight though. His attention was on Dumbledore. The silver haired wizard looked as if he was enjoying his meal. Harry still had the impression that every time he looked away from the teachers' table that someone was watching him. Part of him said it was Dumbledore, but another part of him was unsure. Between bites of his meal, Harry slowly scanned the table and all the teachers there. He had just reached the end of it when he saw two men talking to each other, one of whom Harry recognized due to his strange headdress.
"Who's that man in the turban?" he asked Percy.
"Oh, that's Professor Quirrell," answered Percy. "He's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. No wonder he looks so nervous. Looks like Snape has him trapped."
"Snape?" Harry asked, as he looked at the man that Professor Quirrell was talking to.
"Professor Snape, actually," said Percy. "He's the Potions Master, and Head of Slytherin House. But it's the Defense Against the Dark Arts position that he's really after."
The other man had long and lank black hair that seemed to frame his pale face, making the man's black eyes look like wells of deepest midnight. It was just at that moment that Professor Snape looked up, and for just a moment Harry looked directly into his eyes. There was a sense of anger in the Professor's eyes, but there was also something else there that Harry could not understand. Whatever it was, Harry forgot about it a second later as the scar on his forehead suddenly throbbed with a dull ache that made him cringe before it vanished.
"Something wrong, Harry?" asked Neville.
"My scar hurt for a moment," replied Harry, feeling rather foolish. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it, Neville."
Harry returned to his meal but he wondered what had caused the sudden twinge of pain in his scar. Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it had come. He looked once more at the table with all of the Professors but no one was looking his way now. He was sure that someone had been looking at him before, but he could not figure out who it had been now. He wondered if it was the dark haired Professor Snape, but it had been Professor Quirrell that Harry had seen sneaking into Gringotts on Harry's birthday. Harry thought carefully about that as he finished his meal and started in on his dessert.
"My mum was a witch, but my da was a Muggle," said a nearby boy to Neville. "It was a really nasty surprise for my da when he found out. How about you?"
"My gran raised me," Neville said quietly. "My whole family was afraid I wasn't magical enough to get in to Hogwarts. My Great-Uncle Algie was always trying to force me to do a bit of accidental magic. Then one day, he was hanging me out a window and accidently dropped me. I got lucky and bounced all the way to the road."
"Sounds like a nutter to me," blurted out Ron.
"Well, he is a bit strange," laughed Neville, "but he bought me my toad, Trevor, so I forgave him."
Conversations like that were happening all around Harry. He listened as well as he could to them, trying to gain some insight into the personalities of his new housemates. If he was going to be spending the next seven years with them, Harry wanted to know as much as he could about them.
"You ok, Harry?" whispered Ron.
"Yeah," Harry said with a smile. "I'm just enjoying my dessert."
Ron smiled back at Harry before returning to his own dessert. Ginny had been right about her brother. Harry found himself liking the youngest of the Weasley brothers. In fact, so far he liked all the new people he had met. It felt strange to think about it, but Harry already considered Ron and Neville to be his friends. Even Hermione Granger was all right, even if she was a little bossy. As he finished his dessert, he felt for the first time that he was somewhere that would accept him no matter what happened. When everyone had finished their desserts and the plates had once again magically cleaned themselves, Professor Dumbledore stood once again and looked out over the hall.
"Now that we have all finished our meals, I have a few more things I need to say," began the old man. "There are a few start of term notices to give you. First year students should know that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils, and a few of older students should remember that as well."
Harry tried not to laugh as he noticed that the Professor was looking meaningfully at the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used in the hallways between classes. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, and all those interested in trying out for their house teams should notify Madame Hooch. Finally, I should tell you that this year the third floor corridor on the right hand side is strictly out of bounds to everyone that does not wish to die a very painful death."
"Is he serious?" Harry asked Percy.
"Must be," replied the confused looking boy. "It's odd because he normally gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere. It's strange that he didn't at least tell the Prefects."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song," said the old man with a smile.
With a flick of his wand, a long golden ribbon streamed out of the end of it, forming itself into the words of the song. "Everyone pick your favorite tune, and off we go."
Suddenly the room was filled with the most disturbing sound that Harry had ever heard before as everyone began singing the school song. That would not have been so bad if everyone had been singing the same song. Instead, everyone the song to different tunes and the sound of it grated on Harry's nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. The song seemed to go on forever, until the only two people left singing were Fred and George Weasley, sing to the tune of a slow funeral march. Harry did have to laugh at the fact that Dumbledore actually conducted the last few verses with his wand.
Dumbledore said a few more things, but Harry was so tired that he barely heard a word of it. He barely realized that Percy was calling for the first years before Ron nudged him in the ribs. Standing, Harry followed the rest of the first years out of the Great Hall and into the entrance hall where they climbed the great marble staircase. They climbed several staircases and followed Percy down numerous torch lit hallways before everyone stopped suddenly. A large bundle of walking sticks was floating down the hallway. As Percy stepped forward, the walking sticks started throwing themselves at him.
"Peeves," Percy hissed to the first years. "A poltergeist."
Percy was about to say more, but Harry stepped in front of him and looked up at the bundle of walking sticks. He remembered the name Peeves from the stories that his uncles had told him before leaving for school. Suddenly a small little man with a impossibly wide grin, and mischievous dark eyes appeared floating in the air above them.
"Hello, Peeves," Harry said to the small man floating overhead. "My uncles asked me to give you a message."
"Oh, and what's that?" sneered the strange little man.
"I'm to tell you that Padfoot and Moony send their best regards," Harry said with a wide grin of his own.
Whatever else the poltergeist had expected to hear, Harry's message was obviously not it. With a strange grin, the small man suddenly vanished again and carried the walking sticks off with him. A moment later they could hear the sound of a cat screeching as if it were being chased by someone.
"How did you do that?" asked Percy as Harry stepped back in line with the other first year students. "Only the Bloody Baron has ever been able to control Peeves."
"I just gave him the message my uncles asked me to," said Harry with a yawn.
Percy looked rather confused by that, but he quickly recovered. He led them down several more corridors until they reached a portrait of a very large woman in a pink dress. Harry was just about to ask if they were lost when the woman in the portrait opened her eyes and spoke.
"Password?"
"Caput Draconis," said Percy.
This seemed to be the right thing to say because the portrait suddenly swung open to reveal a opening in the wall behind it. Harry followed the others inside to what seemed to be a spacious common room. Percy showed them all to a set of staircases, explaining that one led to the girls' dormitory and the other to the boys'. Harry and the other boys made their way upstairs to a room labeled "First Years" and opening the door they found their things inside. The room contained several large four poster beds, which Harry was quite glad to see since he was so tired.
Without a word, the boys all dressed for bed before turning out the lights and crawling into their beds. Harry was so tired that he was asleep almost the moment he laid his head upon the pillow. It might have been all the food he had eaten, but no sooner was he asleep than he found himself in a strange dream. In the dream he was wearing Quirrell's turban and a voice was telling him that he must immediately transfer to Slytherin House. Harry just laughed and took the turban off. It seemed to be trying to cling to him, but Harry just sat it down on the floor and walked away from it. He swore he could still hear the voice of the turban yelling at him to come back, but Harry ignored it and walked away. The further away he got from the turban, the brighter and cheerier the dream became. That might have had something to do with the fact that in the distance he could see Ginny waiting for him. Whatever the case, Harry slept with a smile on his face that night and by the next morning he had forgotten all about the turban and the strange voice inside it.
