Hi again! Here's chapter seven of the Alchemist's Rock. This one might not be as funny as the last, but just deal with it. I tried my best to add some humor in it. Disclaimers: I do not own any of the Pigzits ghosts, the Sorting Scarf's rapping abilities, Dunderbore's bunny slippers, the mysterious lightbulbs, or The Fat Cat. Have fun reading!


Chapter 7: The Sorting Scarf

Almost as soon as Hagger had put his arm down, the doors swung open. A tall witch wearing pea green robes stood there. Her hair was wrapped up in a tight bun, and she looked extremely strict. Harold's first thought was that this woman did not have a sense of humor.

"I got the first years, Professor McGummable," announced Hagger unnecessarily.

"I can see that," said the woman. "I'll take them from here. Follow me," she said to the group of kids, and they shuffled after her.

The entrance hall was so huge that it could've fit the Durskeys' entire house inside of it. A glorious marble staircase dominated the scene. Flaming torches hung on the walls, basking the hall in a flickering light. Harold craned his neck trying to see the ceiling, but it was too high to make out.

Professor McGummable led them past a pair of double doors that stretched all the way up to the ceiling. Harold could hear many voices on the other side - the rest of the school must already have arrived. They entered a small room off of the hall instead, and once they were all inside, she turned to face them, shutting the door behind her.

"Welcome to Pigzits!" she said, smiling. "The start-of-the-marking-period feast will start soon, but before you take your seats in the Great Dining Room, we must Sort you into your Houses. This will be an extremely important ceremony because your House will be like your family within Pigzits. You will take classes with your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend your free time in your House living room.

"The four Houses are called Diffindor, Snufflepuff, Gladenstraw, and Hisserin. Each House has its own history, and each has produced stupendous witches and wizards. While you are here, your accomplishments will earn your House points, and rule-breaking will lose House points. The House with the most points at the end of the year will win the House Cup.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few moments. Why don't you all try to make yourselves look presentable while you wait?"

She was looking at the dirt on Don's chin. Don looked down, his face red. Harold tried to flatten his hair, but it was a wasted effort.

"I will come back when we are ready for you," said Professor McGummable. "Please wait quietly, and don't do anything stupid." And with that, she left the room.

"I don't like her," muttered Don.

"I love her!" said Heidi from behind them.

"What are we supposed to do?" asked Harold nervously.

"Ed says it's a very important magical test, but comparing that with all the other crap he told me, I'll bet he's lying," said Don angrily.

Harold swallowed. A test? What if Ed wasn't lying? Harold knew nothing about magic. He looked around at the other first years and saw that they looked as terrified as he was. He stared at the door, waiting for Professor McGummable to come back and send him to the devil.

Suddenly, several people screamed. Harold jumped and whirled around. About twenty ghosts had just floated through the opposite wall. They were slightly see-through and pearly white, and were talking animatedly amongst themselves. They didn't even seem to notice the first years.

"My dear Priest, sir, in my opinion Sneeze does not deserve anymore chances. Haven't we given him enough already?" said a ghost with a bowtie around his neck. "He's not even a ghost at all! He would - hey! Who are all these people?" He had finally noticed the first years.

No one said a word.

"Oh, you're new students!" exclaimed the other ghost that had been arguing. "Welcome, welcome, I'm the Plump Priest, hope you're in Snufflepuff! That was my old House!"

"That's enough!" said Professor McGummable, striding back into the room. "We are ready for you now." she told the first years. "Get into a line and follow me."

The first years got themselves into position, and the ghosts floated back through the wall. Feeling sick, Harold got behind a boy with sand-colored hair with Don behind him, and followed the line into the Great Dining Room.

The Great Dining Room was the most magnificent room Harold had ever seen. Thousands and thousands of candles were floating in midair. Underneath them were four long tables where the rest of the school seemed to be sitting. The tables were set with sparkling plates, glasses, and silverware of all shapes and sizes. At the top of the hall was another table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGummable led them up to this table, whispering, "Turn around and face the students." The first years turned around, and Harold saw hundreds of faces, human and ghost, staring at them. He looked up at the ceiling, and saw that it was silky black and dotted with twinkling stars.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," whispered Heidi from somewhere behind Harold. "It says so in A History of Pigzits."

Harold looked down again as Professor McGummable placed a four-legged stool in the center of the floor. On top of the stool she put an extremely fluffy scarf. It was made with rainbow yarn and had tassels hanging off each end. It had a big rip near one of the ends, and looked awfully old.

Maybe we have to play tug-of-war with it, thought Harold. That would explain why it was ripped. But he noticed that everyone was staring at the scarf, so he stared at it too. For a few seconds, nothing happened. But all of a sudden, the scarf rose up like a snake, one end still sitting on the stool. The rip opened wide and the scarf began to rap:

"Oh, you may think that I'm ugly,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll unravel myself if you can find

A smarter scarf than me.

You can keep your winter scarves

Swathed 'round your neck through fall,

But I'm the Pigzits Sorting Scarf

And I can wrap them all.

There's nothing buried in your brain

The Sorting Scarf can't see,

So put me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You could belong in Diffindor

Where dwell heroic hearts,

Their courage, guts, and courtesy,

Set Diffindors apart.

You could belong in Snufflepuff

Where they are fair and loyal,

Those uncomplaining kids are true

And undaunted by toil.

Or how 'bout wise old Gladenstraw

If you got a brainy mind,

Where those who're bright and clever

Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps in Hisserin

You'll make some real friends,

Those scheming kids use any means

To achieve their ends.

So wrap me on! Please don't be scared

And please try not to barf,

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

'Cause I'm the Sorting Scarf!"

The whole room burst into applause as the scarf finished its rap. It bowed to each of the four tables and flopped back onto the stool.

"That's all you have to do?" said Don in disbelief. "I'm going to kill Ed, he kept saying we had to arm-wrestle with Dunderbore."

Harold smiled weakly. He was feeling a lot better about putting on the scarf then arm-wrestling Dunderbore, but he wished he didn't have to do it in front of so many people.

Professor McGummable stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment. "When your name is called, come sit on the stool and wrap the Sorting Scarf around your neck. The list is not alphabetical, so just deal with it." There were several sniggers from the other students. She looked at the list. "Blabbott, Anna!"

A girl with blonde pigtails staggered out of the line, wrapped the scarf around her neck, and sat down. A moment's pause…

"SNUFFLEPUFF!" cried the scarf. The table to the far right cheered loudly as Anna Blabbott took off the scarf and joined them. Harold saw the Plump Priest waving at her.

"Moans, Suzy!"

"SNUFFLEPUFF!" the scarf yelled again, and Suzy went to sit next to Anna.

"Toot, Gary!"

"GLADENSTRAW!"

The table second from the left cheered this time. Several students shook Gary's hand before he sat down.

"Smocklejurst, Sandy" went to Gladenstraw, too, but "Frown, Lily" became the first Diffindor. The table on the left exploded with cheers, and Harold could see Ed and Gordy banging the table with their silverware while they wolf-whistled.

"Gullstrode, Jillian" then became a Hisserin. Harold noticed that the Hisserin table's students looked pretty unlikable.

"Pinch-Pletchly, Dustin!"

"SNUFFLEPUFF!"

Harold noticed that the scarf didn't always shout out the House immediately. For "Shimmigan, Sean" the scarf had to think for almost a whole minute before shouting out "DIFFINDOR!"

"Grace, Heidi!"

Heidi ran to the stool, sat down, and yanked the Sorting Scarf eagerly around her neck.

"DIFFINDOR!" yelled the scarf. Don groaned.

Harold suddenly had a terrible thought. What if the Sorting Scarf couldn't sort him? What if he sat on the stool for hours and hours until Professor McGummable took the scarf off his neck, saying he had no magical talent whatsoever, and sent him back home on the subway?

When the toad boy, Nelson Wrongbotton, was called, he tripped over his feet on the way to the stool. The scarf took the longest time with Nelson. When it finally cried, "DIFFINDOR!" Nelson leaped off the stool and forgot to take the scarf off. He was halfway to the Diffindor table when he realized his mistake, and brought the scarf back to Professor McGummable with his face as red as a tomato.

When Snalfoy's name was called, he strutted up to the stool and got his wish immediately. The scarf was barely wound around his neck when it screamed, "HISSERIN!" Snalfoy joined his friends Krabby and Boyle looking satisfied.

Harold gulped when he realized that there weren't many people left.

"Loon"…, "Knot"…, "Starkinson"…, then twin girls, "McGill" and "McGill", until finally -

"Plodder, Harold!"

The whole room gasped, and Harold heard whispers everywhere as he approached the stool.

"Did she say Plodder?"

"Harold Plodder?"

"I need his autograph!"

Harold wrapped the scarf around his neck, sat down on the stool, and waited. The room became silent once more.

"Hey, it's Harold Plodder!" said a small voice in his ear. "Nice to meet you, knew I'd be seeing you one day, now let's see…hmmm…wow, you're pretty tricky, very tricky, you've got bravery, and a great brain, too. Lots of talent, and - ooh - a thirst to prove yourself? I like that…now, where could you go?"

Not Hisserin, please, anywhere but there, not Hisserin, thought Harold desperately.

"Really? Not Hisserin? You could do very well in Hisserin, you know, Hisserin could help you on the way to greatness, you know…"

I have enough greatness already, thought Harold mutinously. The last thing I need is more of that.

"I guess you've got a point," said the voice. "Well, if you're sure, better be…DIFFINDOR!"

The scarf shouted the last word to the whole room. He unwrapped the scarf and walked shakily towards the Diffindor table. He was getting the loudest cheer out of anyone so far, but he didn't even noticed because he was so relieved at not being Sorted into Hisserin. Henry the Prefect shook his hand as though he was being introduced to the President, and the Weezy twins were banging their silverware again, chanting, "We got Plodder! We got Plodder!"

Harold could see the High Table properly now. Hagger was sitting at the end nearest to the Diffindor table. He waved his whole arm at Harold, who grinned back. And at the center of the table, in a large, squashy armchair, sat Albert Dunderbore. He looked just like he did on Harold's Chocolate Hog card, with his silver hair in a ponytail, his braided silver beard, his half-moon glasses, his rainbow tie-dye robes, and his rainbow peace sign necklace. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head, and his feet were up on the table. Harold saw that he was wearing pink bunny slippers.

There were now only three more people to Sort. "Thompson, Ian", a tall, dark-skinned boy, was Sorted into Diffindor as well. When Don's name was called, he staggered up to the stool, his face extremely pale. He wound the scarf around his neck with shaking hands.

"DIFFINDOR!" screamed the scarf, and he exhaled in relief, all the color returning to his face. Harold clapped and yelled loudly as Henry leaned across him to shake Don's hand, too.

"Why are you shaking my hand?" asked Don. "I'm your brother!"

"It's all practice for when he meets the President," whispered Ed. "He's got his life all planned out until he's sixty-five."

"I do not!" said Henry indignantly, but his voice was lost as the last first year was Sorted into Hisserin, and the table erupted into cheers.

"And the fact that he's denying it means it's true!" yelled Gordy over the noise. Harold snorted loudly and Henry gave the twins a nasty look. Harold looked up to see Professor McGummable rolling up the scroll and taking the Sorting Scarf away. His stomach growled as he looked down at his empty plate, just then realizing how hungry he was.

Albert Dunderbore gave a loud yawn, stretched, and got to his feet. Several people giggled. He held his arms wide as if trying to hug the whole room.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Pigzits! Before we start the feast, I would like to say a few choice words. And here they are: groovy, lava lamp, far out, peace!

"Thank you!"

He sat down again, and the room burst into a mixture of laughter and applause.

"Is he - is he kind of crazy?" Harold asked Henry.

"Of course he is!" cried Henry. "But that doesn't matter, he's a genius, he's the best sorcerer in the world! Meatballs, Harold?"

Harold gasped. The empty plates along the table had suddenly been filled with food. Spaghetti and meatballs, steak, chicken legs, soup, pizza, mashed potatoes, corn, peas, French fries, hamburgers, hot dogs, and many other things as far as the eye could see. Harold took some of everything and dug in.

The Dursleys had never starved Harold in the truest sense of the word, but he was never allowed to eat anything he really enjoyed. Spudley always took anything Harold wanted, even if it made him throw up a while afterwards.

"Wow - that looks delicious," said the ghost with the bow tie sadly.

"You can't eat?" asked Harold.

"No," said the ghost. "My last meal was almost five hundred years ago. I don't need to eat, but I do miss it, I mean, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," said Harold sympathetically. "What's your name?"

"Oh, sorry, I never introduced myself," said the ghost. "My name is Sir Rick de Wimsy-Porkinton, at your service whenever you need -"

"Hey! I know you!" exclaimed Don suddenly. "You're Almost Noseless Rick!"

"Don't call me that!" said Sir Rick. "Call me Sir Rick de Wimsy -"

"Almost nosless? How can you be almost noseless?" asked Sean Shimmigan.

Sir Rick looked extremely annoyed.

"Like this," he snapped, and he took the end of his nose and pulled. The whole thing swung upwards, and Harold could see that it was only attached by a little bit of skin between his eyebrows. Someone had obviously tried to cut it off, but didn't do it the right way. Looking happier at the shocked looks on everyone's faces, he let his nose drop back into place and said, "Well - new Diffindors! You'd better help us win the Cup this year, the Bleeding Baron has had it for six years now - he's the Hisserin ghost, over there."

Harold looked over at the Hisserin table to see a truly horrible-looking ghost. He had dark eyes and a gaunt face, and his robes were covered with silvery bloodstains.

"How'd he get covered in blood?" asked Sean.

"I have no idea," said Almost Noseless Rick.

When everyone had finished eating, the remains of the food seemed to melt away, leaving the plates sparkly-clean again. Then came the desserts: pies, cakes and cupcakes, a chocolate fountain, s'mores, ice cream, candy, doughnuts….

As Harold helped himself to the cupcakes, he listened to Henry and Heidi talking about classes.

"I'm really excited about Transfiguration, turning things into other things, I want the lessons to start really soon," Heidi was saying, taking small, dainty bites out of her jelly doughnut.

"You'll be starting with small things, first, at least until you get the hang of it, like matches into needles, that kind of thing," said Henry.

Harold was starting to feel exhausted. He looked up at the High Table again and watched the teachers. Dunderbore was shoving cupcake after cupcake into his mouth, while Professor McGummable watched disapprovingly. Harold looked further down the table and noticed Professor Quiddle, the man he had seen in the Squeaky Cauldron, was wearing a weird, purple turban. He was talking to another teacher with pale, waxy skin, greasy black hair, and a hooked nose.

It happed very suddenly. The hooked nosed teacher turned away from Quiddle and looked straight at Harold - and a white hot pain seared across his scar.

"YEOWCH!" yelled Harold, clapping a hand to it, but the pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Henry looked at him with concern.

"Are you okay, Harold?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm great," said Harold, still rubbing his forehead. "Who's that guy talking to Professor Quiddle?"

"Oh, you know Professor Quiddle?" said Henry, looking up at the staff table. "Oh - that's Professor Snake, no wonder Quiddle's looking so nervous. He teaches Potions, but everyone knows he wants Quiddle's job. He knows a lot about the Dark Arts, Snake."

Harold stared at Snake for a while, but he didn't look at him again.

Finally, the desserts disappeared from the plates, and the room fell silent again. Dunderbore got to his feet.

"Hello again, people! I just have a few more announcements to make!" he exclaimed. Harold saw that he had bright pink frosting and multicolored sprinkles all around his mouth. Other people had obviously noticed it too, for there were the sounds of muffled laughter from all over the room. Dunderbore didn't seem concerned.

"First year students should know that the big, scary forest on the grounds is forbidden to everyone. And a reminder to some older students won't hurt." He grinned and glanced at the Weezy twins.

"Mr. Filth, the caretaker, has also told me to remind you that magic is not allowed in the hallways before classes!

"Quippish trials will take place during the second week of the marking period. Anyone who wants to play this awesome sport for their House can talk to Madam Hoops.

"And last but not least, the third floor hallway is forbidden to all students for this year. If you walk down that hallway, it tells me that you wish to die a very painful and unpleasant death."

Harold burst out laughing, but not many other people joined him.

"Is he serious?" he asked Henry, feeling embarrassed.

"I think so," said Henry, looking confused. "But he usually gives us a reason."

"He just did!" said Harold. "He said we would die if we went down there!"

"That's not what I meant -" Henry began, but Dunderbore was talking again.

"And now, before you all hit the sack, it's time to sing the school song!" he cried, grinning. Harold noticed that the other teachers' smiles looked like they were being forced. Dunderbore flicked his wand, and a long, tie-dye ribbon flew out the end of it, and began twisting itself into words.

"Everyone think of your favorite tune, and start singing!" he said. And the school bellowed:

Pigzits, Pigzits, Piggy Zitty Pigzits,

Teach us something, please,

Whether we be old and wrinkly,

Or young with bony knees,

Our brains could use a nice refresher

Of some splendid stuff,

'Cause now they're all filled with hot air,

Cobwebs, and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Give back what we've forgot,

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

And tie our brains into a knot!"

Everyone finished the song at different times. Finally, the only people left were the Weezy twins, singing to the traditional graduation song. Dunderbore conducted their last few notes with his wand and when they had finished, was one of the people who clapped the loudest.

"Wow! That was awesome!" he yelled when the clapping subsided. "But now it's off to bed. Peace out!" He made the peace symbol with both hands, grinning broadly.

Henry led the Diffindors out of the Great Dining Room and up the marble staircase. Harold was too tired to be shocked that the people in the many pictures were moving and talking. Many pointed at him and shrieked, "Harold Plodder!" but he didn't care. They climbed a few more staircases, and Harold was just going to ask Henry how much further they had to go when the whole group came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of light bulbs was floating in the air ahead of them. When Henry strode into sight, they began throwing themselves at him. Henry sighed, turning around and saying, "That's Sneeze. He's a poltergeist." He looked up and yelled, "SNEEZE! Stop being an idiot and show yourself!"

The unseen Sneeze made a noise like air being let out of a balloon.

"Do you want me to get the Bleeding Baron?" Henry threatened.

There was a small pop, and a little man came into view. He was sitting pretzel-style in the air and had a wicked grin on his face.

"Yay! Little kids!" he cried in a nasally voice. "I hope they have good reflexes!" He threw more light bulbs, and everyone ducked. "Oh, and by the way, when I said that, I was being sarcastic!"

"We're not little!" said Nelson indignantly.

"You are in my book!" said Sneeze, cackling evilly.

"Where did you get those light bulbs?" said Henry slowly. "Pigzits doesn't even use light bulbs!"

"Um...that's...a secret," mumbled Sneeze.

Henry looked at him closely. "Okay, whatever. Just go away, or I'll tattle on you, I really will!"

Sneeze glared at him, threw the rest of the light bulbs onto Nelson's head, and zoomed away.

"Watch out for Sneeze," Henry warned. "The Bleeding Baron is the only one that can control him. And here we are!"

They had stopped in front of a giant portrait of a very fat cat. It looked up as Henry approached it. "Password?" it meowed lazily.

"Tuna fish," said Henry. The Fat Cat nodded, and the whole portrait swung forward to reveal an opening in the wall. They all climbed through it and found themselves in the Diffindor living room. It was filled with red squashy armchairs and couches, and there was a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Henry showed the girls their dorm and the boys theirs. At the top of a spiral staircase, they went through a door that said First Years and found their beds: Five four-poster beds with dark red curtains. Harold found his trunk in front of a bed and dressed in his pajamas. He climbed into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

He had a very weird dream. He was wearing Professor Quiddle's turban, and it kept yelling at him.

"Why aren't you in Hisserin?" it snapped angrily. "You have to be in Hisserin! It's your destiny!"

"I don't care!" yelled Harold. "I like Diffindor! Hisserin is evil!"

"Oh, yeah?" mocked the turban.

"Yeah!" said Harold. "You want to make something of it?"

"With pleasure!"

Harold punched the turban over and over as hard as he could, but each time felt like he was punching his head. To add insult to injury, the turban was repeatedly slapping him across the face with the end of its wrapping, and despite being a piece of fabric, felt like a ton of bricks. And Snalfoy was standing next to him, laughing his head off, and then he turned into the hooked nosed teacher, Snake, whose laugh got higher and higher until there was a flash of green light and Harold woke up with cold sweat.

He rolled over and fell asleep, and when he woke up the next morning he couldn't remember the dream at all.


I had fun writing about Dunderbore! Heehee! Now please review, or I'll send Sneeze to throw suspicious light bulbs at your head!