7.

The door swung open at once, to reveal Professor McGonagall on the other side, looking very smart in a set of emerald green robes.

Estelle brightened, and Professor McGonagall offered her a small smile and a nod.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide and allowed the first years into the entrance hall. Estelle saw Hagrid slip away, to where the door on the right was humming with the drone of hundreds of voices - that was the Great Hall. She saw him open the door, the noise got louder for a moment, then the door slid shut again and they were alone with Professor McGonagall.

They followed her across the floor, but not into the Great Hall. Instead, she showed them into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. She wasn't the dry, sarcastic, smirking woman who loved sports now. Right now, she was in her formal role as instructor, and it was an intimidating one. "The start-of-term banquet 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 house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will win you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Estelle saw Professor McGonagall look meaningfully in her direction as she said this. She resolved, then, firmly, to show her house well. In some way, she would make it stand out. And she would make herself stand out in the process - separate from her fame.

Estelle could have sworn she saw McGonagall suppress a smile before she looked back to the rest of the group.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on the dirty, smudge-nosed face of the red-haired boy from Neville's boat.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber.

Estelle chanced a glance around herself. Everyone looked somewhere between nervous and downright petrified. To have your personality read was one thing, she thought, but to have it read in front of the rest of the school… and for that to decide your fate… was quite another.

She was just pondering this when something made her tense and whirl around, going for her wand - several people behind her had just screamed. She saw what they were screaming at, and gasped. So did the people around her.

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years.

"There are ghosts?" Estelle whispered to Terry.

"Of course there are ghosts," said Terry, as though this were a silly question. "You don't find them everywhere, though. Only in really old places… But they don't usually hurt anything. That's more ghouls and poltergeists; they're what you're looking for."

Estelle watched the ghosts in fascination. Out of all the magical apparitions she had ever heard of, both dreadful and kind… She'd always found the living dead most interesting.

They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Estelle opened her mouth and closed it. Cleared her throat, and spoke. "We're, erm - we're about to be Sorted." Nobody else seemed about to say anything - not even Malfoy.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said McGonagall's voice, suddenly and sharply. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

She had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Estelle felt a jump of nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She and her cohorts formed a long line: Terry, then Estelle, then Hermione, then Lisa, then Wayne, then Michael, then Neville, and last the red-haired boy whose name she hadn't caught. Beyond Terry, a few people ahead, she could spot Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Estelle had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Estelle looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

Hermione began to whisper, "It's bewitched to look like -"

"The sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History," Estelle finished in amusement. They looked down at each other and then snorted with laughter.

"It's just, no one's read that book except me!" Hermione whispered.

"Shh, shut up, shut up, something's happening!" Estelle shoved Hermione gently in the shoulder and they both became quiet, still trying to stifle muffled giggles. Terry gave them a weird look and they broke into gales of laughter again. Terry rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking away, but he was smiling.

Professor McGonagall had silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put that pointed frayed, patched, and dirty witch's hat from Dumbledore's office.

The hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - Oh my God Neville was right, Estelle thought distantly - 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.

"What if we're not any of those things? Do we have to go home?" Estelle asked. Her friends shushed her, but she'd been rather serious.

Professor McGonagall now 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 moment's pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Estelle 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!"

Terry shrugged and waved goodbye. The table second from the left had 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; the red-haired twins and the dreadlocks boy from earlier were cat-calling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" became a Slytherin. Along with the clapping, there was lots of smirking and back-slapping, lots of "good jobs" from the Slytherin table.

Estelle watched in fascination as people went forward one by one. Sometimes, she noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Corner, Michael" spent some time with the hat before it declared him a Ravenclaw and he hurried off to sit next to Terry.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"... GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted after quite a long time. So Terry and Michael were ready-minded and Hermione was brave?

"Hopkins, Wayne" became a Hufflepuff. Wayne went off to sit next to Hannah at the table of hardworking, patient, just, and loyal. Estelle saw him smile and hold out his hand for a handshake. Yes, Wayne would be just fine.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Neville 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." Hermione patted him sympathetically on the shoulder as he sat down next to her, red-faced and humiliated.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called, at least feigning confidence. 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, and now, despite her nervousness, Estelle was curious. Where would she fit in? How would she measure up?

"Moon"... "Nott"... "Parkinson"... then a pair of twin Indian girls, "Patil" and "Patil"... then, "Perks, Sally-Anne"... and then, at last -

"Potter, Estelle!"

As Estelle stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Estelle Rose Potter?"

The last thing Estelle saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. You have a sharp mind and wit and great creativity, but no, Ravenclaw is not for you. You are not interested in learning simply for learning's sake, only in what knowledge is useful to you, and there are other reasons why Ravenclaw is not your rightful place."

What do you mean? thought Estelle.

And the Hat began showing her a series of images:

Estelle using her magic to help herself steal food.

Estelle never considering using her magic to hurt others.

Estelle letting the snake loose for her own ends.

Those ends being a desperate cry for love and protection.

"Do you see my problem?" asked the Hat. Estelle's eyes had widened, vulnerable, as she stared into the blackness. "You're a perfect match for Slytherin. You're also a perfect match for Hufflepuff. You're cunning and witty, a true survivor with a sharp tongue and a certain disregard for the rules. Yet at the same time, you're essentially kind and loving - remarkable, considering what you've been through.

"No, I refuse to choose. I DECLARE A HATSTALL!" it shouted to the whole hall.

The hat was suddenly jerked off of Estelle's head. The buzz in the hall had heightened to a fever pitch.

"Does that mean I have to go back home?" Estelle asked, worried, looking with big eyes up at Professor McGonagall.

"No, Miss Potter," said McGonagall, smiling, "I was a hatstall myself, between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. It simply means the hat is caught between more than one house. You are in the unique position of being able to choose your house. You don't have to announce which house you choose and make enemies, but simply whisper the two options and your choice in my ear."

Estelle leaned over and whispered, "I was put between the two other houses. Hufflepuff and Slytherin. It said I was cunning and kind."

McGonagall looked over at her sharply. "Are you sure?" She seemed to visibly restrain herself from saying further. "And -" She was reserved. "Make your choice."

Estelle looked from Hufflepuff to Slytherin. At the Hufflepuff table, there was the merry Fat Friar, and Wayne, Hannah, and Susan. At the Slytherin table was a horrible, gaunt ghost covered in chains and blood stains, and Draco Malfoy and his cronies.

"Hufflepuff," she whispered to the Professor. She knew she'd made the right choice when McGonagall smiled.

She stood and announced, "Estelle Potter is a Hatstall! She chooses Hufflepuff!"

"HA! Compared to what?!" Everyone looked around. Draco Malfoy had stood, sneering in positive delight. "She picked HUFFLEPUFF?!"

"SIT DOWN, MALFOY!"

And everyone looked around again. That had come from a rather fierce-looking dark-haired Hufflepuff prefect, who had stood, his teeth gritted, glaring.

"Quite right, Mr Malfoy, sit down," said Professor McGonagall, finding her sternest voice.

Malfoy sat down, and the entire Hufflepuff table cheered - and so, to Estelle's amazement, did Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

"Ha! At least the Slytherins didn't get her!" she heard one of the red-haired twins shout, as she walked uncertainly toward the Hufflepuff table. She felt like she'd just passed some sort of weird test.

"Good job, Miss Potter." The dark-haired Hufflepuff prefect took her hand and shook it vigorously. "Gabriel Truman. You won't be sorry you picked us!"

"Yes, welcome, Miss Potter, do take a seat, do take a seat!" said the delighted Fat Friar.

Estelle sat down next to Wayne, who shrugged and smiled sweetly. "Nice job," was all he could say. "Don't listen to Malfoy. Everyone knows Slytherins are as Dark as they come."

Estelle relaxed. "Really? So I did okay?"

Wayne laughed. "Yeah," he said. "You did." Susan and Hannah leaned over and beamed, waving.

"Hufflepuffs are seen as weaklings," Gabriel Truman admitted, nodding. "But that's just because we know how to hide."

"I am good at hiding," Estelle admitted, thinking of her time with the Dursleys, and of the way she didn't want to look powerful, but simply be left alone.

"Yeah. And everyone likes us," said Gabriel. "You can't say that of the Slytherins."

The Great Hall was awash in amazement.

"I can't believe it!"

"She was a Hatstall! She's a Hufflepuff!"

Yup, Estelle thought, I'm the Hatstall Hufflepuff half-Slytherin with the exploding wand that has the famous core connection. I'm different. She supposed she was okay with that.

"Alright, everyone settle down!" Dumbledore finally shouted, standing to his feet and waving his hands. The hubbub subsided. But Estelle could see a certain amusement in Dumbledore's eye. He looked in her direction and gave her a tiny nod. Then he sat down again.

Estelle could see the High Table properly now. Hagrid sat at one end. Professor Quirrell sat toward the middle, looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Dumbledore himself. His silver beard was the only thing on the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.

There were only a few people left to be sorted now. Among them were "Turpin, Lisa", dark-haired and bespectacled, and she was made a Ravenclaw. She went to sit with Terry and Michael. And the red-haired, shabby boy was "Weasley, Ronald", and he was made a Gryffindor. He went to sit with Neville and Hermione.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

And thus did Estelle Potter become a Hufflepuff with a vine and phoenix feather wand.


Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was 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. Estelle gave an amused little smile. Albus Dumbledore was interesting, she thought. He'd placed her with the Dursleys, but she couldn't help liking him.

Estelle looked down, and her eyes widened. The dishes in front of her, previously empty, were now suddenly piled with food. She had never seen so many things she 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 peppermint humbugs, she supposed for after the meal.

Estelle had never been allowed to eat as much as she liked before - at least, not until a month ago. She'd begun to enjoy cooking and eating food simply for herself, but this was on much larger a scale. She felt she could really fill up, eating at Hogwarts every day. She piled her plate with roast beef, sausages, bacon and steak, roast potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding, and put a peppermint humbug beside her plate for after she was finished. She began to eat. It was all delicious. Those mysterious elves had really outdone themselves.

"It's all so good, isn't it?" said the Fat Friar, smiling. "It was even when I was a student here hundreds of years ago, too. And as you can see, my relationship with food became a lifelong love!" He laughed and patted his large belly. "Of course, I can't eat anymore, now that I'm dead. But I'm content. I enjoyed food enough while I was alive."

"I suppose that's a good way of looking at things," said Estelle. "So - I'm curious. Most of the wizarding world is Pagan. I'm thinking of druids and druidesses and Wiccan spiritual leaders. But you're a Friar, and those are Catholic." She wasn't sure how to voice the question without sounding rude, so she ended it there.

"Yes," said the Friar. "This opinion of mine has always been unpopular, but I believe the Bible truly teaches us not to judge our fellow man. I think people warp the Bible to suit their own needs - whether it's to burn witches and wizards, cage and electrocute the mentally ill, enslave people who aren't white, or deny basic rights to people with loose sexuality. The Bible does not teach any of this. The Bible teaches kindness and tolerance. That's what I think. Wizards and witches aren't solely Satanic - Satan uses to be an angel, after all. God has Satan's powers; Satan has God's. It's not the power, it's what you do with it that counts.

"Good question," he added, smiling. "I don't usually get such intellectual commentary from a student!"

"Yeah, was your other choice Ravenclaw?" Wayne asked teasingly, and everybody laughed. Estelle smiled politely.

"Speaking of other choices," said Gabriel, leaning toward the first years, "and I'm not going to judge. Who here was disappointed when they learned they were a Hufflepuff?"

Several sheepish first years raised their hands.

"Right," said Gabriel, nodding. "There are a lot of rumors about Hufflepuffs. So let's put a few rumors to rest. First, let's focus on what Hufflepuffs are. The hat said some traits: trustworthy, loyal, hard-working. We're also friendly, decent, tenacious, and we're seen as the kindest house in the school. Those are all positive traits, and you were put here because you exemplify them. Our emblem is the badger, an animal that is often underestimated, because it lives quietly until attacked, but which, when provoked, can fight off animals much larger than itself, including wolves. This ties into what I want to tell you about Hufflepuff.

"Now, there are a few things you should know about Hufflepuff house. First of all, let's deal with a perennial myth about the place, which is that we're the least clever house. WRONG. Hufflepuff is certainly the least boastful house, but we've produced just as many brilliant witches and wizards as any other. Want proof? Look up Grogan Stump, one of the most popular Ministers for Magic of all time. He was a Hufflepuff – as were the successful Ministers Artemesia Lufkin and Dugald McPhail. Then there's the world authority on magical creatures, Newt Scamander; Bridget Wenlock, the famous thirteenth-century Arithmancer who first discovered the magical properties of the number seven, and Hengist of Woodcroft, who founded the all-wizarding village of Hogsmeade, which lies very near Hogwarts School. Hufflepuffs all.

"So, as you can see, we've produced more than our fair share of powerful, brilliant and daring witches and wizards, but, just because we don't shout about it, we don't get the credit we deserve. Ravenclaws, in particular, assume that any outstanding achiever must have come from their house. I got into big trouble during my third year for duelling a Ravenclaw prefect who insisted that Bridget Wenlock had come from his house, not mine. I should have got a week of detentions, but Professor Sprout let me off with a warning and a box of coconut ice."

He pointed to their head of house, a tiny, squat little witch with flyaway grey hair sitting at the High Table.

"Hufflepuffs are trustworthy and loyal," Gabriel continued. "We don't shoot our mouths off, but cross us at your peril; like our emblem, the badger, we will protect ourselves, our friends and our families against all-comers. Nobody intimidates us.

"However, it's true that Hufflepuff is a bit lacking in one area. We've produced the fewest Dark wizards of any house in this school. Of course, you'd expect Slytherin to churn out evil-doers, seeing as they've never heard of fair play and prefer cheating over hard work any day, but even Gryffindor (the house we get on best with) has produced a few dodgy characters.

"So, what I'm saying is, you were actually put into a very good house. It's a positive that you're a Hufflepuff, not a negative.

"I must say, I hope some of you are good Quidditch players. Hufflepuff hasn't done as well as I'd like in the Quidditch tournament lately," he added.

"I do feel better," Sally-Anne Perks admitted, and the others nodded.

"Excellent!" said Gabriel. "Now why don't you all go around the table and introduce yourselves?"

"I'm Ernie MacMillan," said a plump boy, waving.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," said a boy with curly blonde hair.

"Wayne Hopkins," said Wayne, smiling, thin and blue-eyed with wavy hair.

"Sally-Anne Perks," said a girl with a strawberry blonde ponytail.

"Susan Bones," said a braided redhead matter of factly.

"Hannah Abbott," said Hannah shyly, blushing, round-faced and pink-cheeked.

"Megan Jones," said a brunette, smiling.

"And of course, as you all know, I'm Estelle Rose Potter," said Estelle.

"D'you go by Estelle or Estelle Rose?" Ernie asked. "I need to know because you're, like, my new best friend."

Estelle laughed. "I go by Estelle," she said.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

As Estelle helped herself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to families and classes.

Ernie was a Pureblood but he didn't mind Halfbloods and Muggleborns, Justin was a Muggleborn who'd been down for Eton, and Wayne of course was a Halfblood. Susan was a Pureblood whose family had been decimated in the last war against Voldemort; her aunt was a judge in the Wizengamot. Hannah was a Muggleborn who was too shy to say much about herself, Megan was a Muggleborn who had a lot to say about herself, and Sally-Anne was a cheerful, peppy, but kind Halfblood.

They also asked Gabriel what their classes would be like. He told them they'd start small - from flying, where they'd start out with hovering up and down, to Transfiguration, where they'd be turning matches into needles, to Defense, where they'd learn how to send sparks at people. "A lot of it will be theory," said Gabriel. "You'll get a strong grounding in magical theory before you move on to bigger things."

Estelle, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

The hook nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Estelle's eyes, quite suddenly. And Estelle couldn't decipher the expression there. Was it one of sadness? Longing? Curiosity? It was a positively haunted look. It was almost like he already knew her, or was seeing someone else in her place.

Estelle's eyes moved to the back of Quirrell's turban - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on her forehead.

"Ouch!" Estelle clapped a hand to her head.

"Is something wrong?" asked more than one person at the Hufflepuff table in concern.

"N-no. I'm fine." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Estelle looked up just in time to see the hook-nosed teacher look quickly back at Quirrell, as if discerning. He had noticed Estelle's moment of pain too, and in a subtle way, he seemed to wonder about it.

But why would Estelle's scar hurt when she looked at Quirrell's turban? And why had she gotten the sudden feeling the hook-nosed teacher had already met her?

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" she asked Gabriel.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape. Unsurprisingly, he's head of Slytherin house."

So why would the Dark wizard seem longing and sad when he looked at her? And why would the stuttering, timid, supposedly Light Quirrell's turban make her scar hurt? It was all very peculiar.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term noticed 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.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used in between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"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."

Estelle's eyes widened. "Is he serious?" she asked disbelievingly. Very few people had laughed - very few indeed.

"He must be," said Gabriel, 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. So is the lake, for that matter. Hogwarts doubles as a magical creature conservation site. Even the plants in some of the Herbology greenhouses can turn deadly.

"But this kind of thing - I've never heard of it before." He looked genuinely puzzled, and he was at least fifteen.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. He 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 favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody finished the song at different times. Estelle was laughing through half of hers. At last, only the red-headed Gryffindor 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!"

The Hufflepuff first years followed Gabriel through the chattering crowds and out of the Great Hall. "Is he always like that?" Estelle asked curiously, running up to walk beside Gabriel.

"Oh, yes. In case you couldn't tell from the star-spangled robes, the twinkling eyes, and the high singing voice, Dumbledore is what might be called 'flaming gay.' Seems rather proud of it, too. He's an eccentric - enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling, always has a bowl of candy nearby, collects odd magical instruments no one except him knows the use of, and he has a pet phoenix. No one knows how he got it because nobody's been brave enough to ask him.

"He's a genius, though," Gabriel added as an afterthought. "Absolutely brilliant, very powerful, and a good headmaster. Unless you don't like Muggleborns. He's very Muggle-supportive, Dumbledore. He used to be a Gryffindor."

Estelle expected the Hufflepuffs to go up the marble staircase, but instead Gabriel turned right in the entrance hall and went through a door, down a flight of stone steps. They ended up in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.

"Are we underground?" Estelle asked.

"Yes," said Gabriel. "We're one floor underground. Our common room is right next to the kitchen, so I'll show you the kitchen first. All Hufflepuffs know how to get into the kitchen for a late-night snack."

They went in front of a picture of a giant fruit-bowl, and Gabriel tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Gabriel seized it, pulled the door open, and led the Hufflepuff first years inside.

They were in an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end. The kitchen was filled with curious creatures, all in the same uniform of a tea towel stamped in the Hogwarts crest and tied like a toga. The creatures had large, bat-like ears, bulging eyes, and long, thin noses. They were very small.

"These are the Hogwarts house elves," said Gabriel. "House elves - these are the newest Hufflepuffs."

The house elves all bowed and curtsied. "Very pleased to meet you, sirs and misses!" they said in high, shrill voices.

"Now, let me show you how close the common room is," said Gabriel, and he led the first years back out of the kitchen. The door closed and disappeared, the doorknob promptly turning into a painted pear again.

They turned right, and stopped in front of a stack of large barrels in a nook of the corridor. Gabriel demonstrated, saying, "Tap the barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row, in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff', and the lid will swing open. We are the only house at Hogwarts that also has a repelling device for would-be intruders. If the wrong lid is tapped, or if the rhythm of the tapping is wrong, the illegal entrant is doused in vinegar.

"You will hear other houses boast of their security arrangements, but it so happens that in more than a thousand years, the Hufflepuff common room and dormitories have never been seen by outsiders. Like badgers, we know exactly how to lie low – and how to defend ourselves."

The barrel swung open. They crawled, one by one, inside and along the passageway behind it. They emerged into a very cozy common room. It was round and earthy and low-ceilinged; it felt sunny inside despite the fact that it was nighttime, and the circular windows had a magically conjured view of rippling grass and dandelions.

There was a lot of burnished copper about the place, and many plants, which either hung from the ceiling or sat on windowsills.

Gabriel explained, "Our Head of House, Professor Pomona Sprout, is Head of Herbology, and she brings the most interesting specimens (some of which dance and talk) to decorate our common room - one reason why Hufflepuffs are often very good at Herbology."

"Hello!" said a hanging potted flower to Estelle brightly as she walked forward, looking around the common room in fascination. The overstuffed sofas and chairs were upholstered in yellow and black, and the whole room gave off an aura of cozy, sunny happiness.

"The dormitories are that way," said Gabriel, pointing toward two round doors in the walls of the common room. "Right for boys, left for girls."

Estelle and her four dormmates went through the round door, along a corridor, and found the room with a plaque labeled First Years. They went inside, and found copper lamps which cast a warm light over five four-posters, all of which were decorated with patchwork quilts. Copper bed-warmers hung on the walls.

"They even have accommodations in case we have cold feet," said Megan wonderingly, going over to examine the bed-warmers.

Food, warmth, and sunshine, thought Estelle - the three things a person needed most to be happy and comfortable.

Their trunks had already been brought up. "I wonder where my owl Hedwig is?" said Estelle as she went over to the trunk by her bed.

"Probably in the Owlery," said Sally-Anne knowledgeably. "I heard that's where all the owls go to roost."

"Yeah, don't worry, Hogwarts will take care of Hedwig. She's fine," said Susan, yawning.

Hannah's cat slid by Estelle's feet, meowing softly.

Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and nightgowns and fell into bed. They fell asleep quickly and comfortably. It was blissfully silent underground, where they were protected from storms and winds, water and howling.

Perhaps Estelle had eaten a bit too much, because she had a very bizarre dream. Snape was trying to reach her, his hand stretching out, but she was just beyond his reach; Snape turned into Malfoy, with the same look of longing on his face; then Malfoy turned into a handsome, pale, dark-haired man, and he reached out and grabbed Estelle in a vice-grip, smirking. She struggled and tried to get away, but she couldn't. Then the dark-haired man opened his mouth and laughed, a high, cold laugh - there was a burst of green light, and a pain in Estelle's forehead - and then all of a sudden everything paused and went backward in reverse. The light retreated, the laugh faded, and the dark-haired man was left with a vulnerable expression.

Estelle woke with a start and the strangest feeling that the pale, dark-haired man with his pleading dark brown eyes needed her help.

She rolled over and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, scribbling down the dream by the light of the candle beside her bed. (They each had a bedstand and a set of dresser drawers; hers was conveniently located near the water pitcher and the bathroom.) Once she'd finished scribbling, she rolled over and fell asleep. It was a good thing she'd written the dream down, because when she frowned down at the piece of parchment the next morning, she didn't remember the dream at all.

Yet it filled her with a sense of foreboding.