Chapter Ten - The Hat's Warm Welcome
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—∞·Chapter Summary·∞—
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The castle rejoices upon the return of its rightful owner.
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The Hat's Warm Welcome
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It's been a while since Professor McGonagall had left and the first years are still huddled in the small chamber. Harry hoped she would return soon, or he could no longer stand the soreness of his legs.
Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air— several people behind him screamed.
"What the—?" He gasped. So did the people around him. 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 children beneath them. They seemed to be arguing about something. 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 ruff and tights had finally noticed them.
Nobody answered.
"Ooh! New students!" The friar exclaims, smiling around them welcomingly. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"
A few people nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" He said to them. "My old house, you know."
"Move along now," comes a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall had finally returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
"Now, form a line," the witch told them, "and follow me."
Most of the students felt odd as though their legs had turned to lead. Harry's was starting to stiffen. He got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
If he had not been to the summer palace, Harry might have never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It felt like home. The same vibe he'd felt in his other estates. The hall was lit by 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 rest of the student body.
Behind them was the faculty. The hundreds of faces staring at their group 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, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "it's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.
An idea sprang out of Harry's head. With a smirk curling up in his lips, the boy subtly snapped his fingers commanding the ceiling to change. The sky had turned into the same ones as that at the dragon reserve. To everyone's horror, about ten vicious-looking dragons hovered on top of the ceiling roaring at them. More than half of the crowd shrieked in fear when one of them opened its mouth revealing its horrendous fangs. Harry saw Neville fainted ahead of the line.
Now, try to explain what just happened, smart girl. He sneered in his head.
Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years acting calm and innocent.
On top of the stool, McGonagall placed a pointed wizard's hat. It was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it inside the house if ever she comes across it.
"Maybe we had to try and get a rabbit out of it," the boy with the sandy hair in front of him made a wild guess. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at it, he did the same as well. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing quite out loud.
"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 Hog warts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hid den 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 be long in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might be long in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Raven claw,
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 entire hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
"So all we've got to do is just to try the hat on!" Ron groans quietly to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
The boy smiles at the brilliance of the joke. He's starting to love those twins more and more.
Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long scroll of parchment. She announces, "when I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Then, she started calling out names. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line. She 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. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
"Bones Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table second from the left clapped this time. Several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.
"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers. Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.
"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all, he'd known a lot about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others, it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to him in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.
"Granger, Hermione!"
She almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!" Shouted the hat. Ron groaned in utter disgust.
When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with him. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it over to "MacDougal, Morag."
Malfoy swaggered forward like a peacock when his name was called and got his wish at once. The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
The blonde went to join his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.
There weren't many people left now. "Moon" …, "Nott" … "Parkinson" … then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" …, then "Perks, Sally Anne" … until at last —
"Potter-Black, Harry James!"
He noticed the way McGonagall call out his name with a stutter, looking confused for some reason. Why does his added last name make everyone look absurd?
As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Wait, Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
"I heard it was Potter-Black. How on earth did it come to that?"
"Two Ancient houses! Merlin… how on earth did he become a Black?"
The last thing he saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second, he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.
"Bless my soul!" It cried. "The little lord has made it back! Dear Hogwarts, the son that had come from the line of the three founders - rejoice for he has arrived!"
"Oh, tattered hat, will you be quiet?" Harry hisses. The last thing he wanted is for the bloody talkative garment to announce his ownership of the castle in front of hundreds of people.
"Forgive me, Little Lord. This old and humbled soul is just so happy to see you." It makes an ugly noise as if it was crying horrendously. "But don't fret, this conversation is only between you and me, I swear. As I intend to speak in your mind and not with your neck."
Harry felt better. "So, aren't you going to sort me now, then?"
"My apologies. But yes, I'll do it. Aaah, Little Lord, you're giving me a difficult job. Plenty of courage like your great, great grandfather, Godric himself. A brilliant mind like your great-grandaunt. There's talent, aah my goodness. Salazar would be so proud to have you in. You have a nice thirst to prove yourself which is interesting… but where shall I put you, eh?"
The young man smirks, "come on, hat. No need to torment yourself. You know the answer to that."
With a sigh, the hat conceded. "Fine. After all, my master would definitely roll in his grave if I hand you over to his friend. Well, if you're so sure, I'd place you to your main house then—GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the entire hall. He took it off and walked smugly toward the leftmost table. He was so amused with the conversation he had with the tattered object that he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled proudly, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
The boy sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. He tilted his head in a slight bow recognizing his title.
He could see the High Table properly now. In the end, nearest him, sat Hagrid who caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up. Harry grins back. While there, in the center, in a large golden chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. He averted his eyes immediately and caught sight of the Phoenix who showed up after he took his lordship rings in Gringotts. It was perched atop the headmaster's chair where the old coot sat. To his surprise, it winked at him as if telling him he's on his side but wouldn't reveal it until at the right time.
Harry flashed a genuine smile.
Now, there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now, Harry wanted to urge the hat to sort him to Hufflepuff to make a prank out of it but decided to dismiss the thought in the end. A second later, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
He clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," Percy beams proudly as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the sorting hat away.
Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The nutrient potions he's been taking for more than a month now increased his appetite, causing most parts of his body to fill out.
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.
Load of tripe, Harry thought in his head.
"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! — Thank you!"
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.
Percy was the closest to whom he could ask the question, "why is he calling house-elves names? Is he— a bit mad?"
"Mad?" Percy looks at him airily, "he's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"
He looked around and realized what had just happened. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. There's roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some reason, peppermint humbugs. Rolling his eyes, he piled his plate with a bit of everything realizing he already got the answer he was looking for.
Some of the purebloods took notice of his table manners; his proper utilization of the knives and forks as well as the refined movements of his hands in taking his food. They couldn't help but look at each other with raised brows, wondering who could've taught the boy-who-lived to be living the life of a true lord.
"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.
"Want some?"
"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years." He scowled. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of the Gryffindor Tower."
"I know who you are!" Ron exclaims suddenly. "My brothers told me about you— you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.
"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"
The ghost looked extremely miffed as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.
"Like this," he said irritably. Sir Nicholas seized his left ear and pulled. His entire head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased with the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "so— new Gryffindors! I hope you are going to help us win the house championship this year. Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable— he's the Slytherin ghost, by the way."
Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to the Malfoy kid who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
"How did he get covered in blood?" Seamus asked with great interest.
"I've never asked, said Nick delicately.
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…
Harry was sure Bill's going to kill him for ruining his diet but decided to worry about it later. As he helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half," Seamus said. "Me' dad's a muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch until after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
The others laughed hearing his story.
"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked him.
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," he said. "But the family thought I was all-muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me— he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned and yet nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here— they thought I might not be magical enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased, he bought me my toad."
On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be difficult "; "you'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing—").
As he was starting to feel warm and sleepy, Harry looked up at the high table again. One of the teachers was staring intently at him. He had greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.
"Who's that teacher talking to the Professor with the turban?" He asked Percy again.
"Oh, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, although many people say he doesn't want to. Everyone knows he's after Professor Quirrell's job, that guy with the turban next to him. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
The boy watched the said man for a while, but he didn't look at him again unlike the last time.
At last, the desserts had also disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet again.
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 notices to give you all."
Everyone listened.
"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."
His twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Harry laughed, but he was one of the few ones who did.
"He's not serious, is he?" He muttered to Percy.
"Must be," the Prefect told him, frowning at the announcement. "It's odd because he usually gives us a ready explanation of why we're not allowed to go somewhere— the forest is full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us, prefects, at least."
When it's time to go to bed, the Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds— well, except Harry. He was accosted by Professor McGonagall who asked him to follow her to her office.
This made him feel a bit nervous. He would think it would be unfair, but he doesn't want to think he'll be in trouble on his first day in school, not that he remembers anything he could've done in the last few hours.
"This way, Mister Potter." She opened a door allowing him to get in. Harry found himself in a wide room that looked like a small library. "Sit."
The boy complied reluctantly. He tried to avert his gaze from the stern glares of the said witch. So instead, he trailed his gaze around the interiors of the room.
Shortly afterward, the lady professor pulled out a piece of parchment from her desk, saying, "I just received a notice after the sorting ceremony, Mr. Potter," she says. "The castle has recently opened the West Wing Apartments next to the corridors going to the Gryffindor Tower assigning it to one Archduke Griffin."
Harry flinched. He didn't expect the castle to set up a completely secluded apartment for him.
Noticing his reaction, McGonagall's gaze softened. It wasn't her intention to strike fear in the eyes of the young Potter Lord. And so, she said, "Don't worry, Lord Potter-Black. Your identity is safe here in my office. Besides, every generation whose lines had come from the founders are given the privilege to gain access to these personal quarters. I just want to set some rules for you to follow before you decide to have some of your friends stay over wandering around. I had enough of your father's antics when he roamed this place in his time."
Harry couldn't help but smile. It's not as if he's planning to break some hundred rules anyway.
Thus, after what sounded like forever with additional reminders and rules he was given, Harry was escorted by McGonagall personally into the upper part of the west wing corridor. They passed through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, a series of staircases until they walked past the portrait of the Fat Lady that's supposed to lead them to the Lion's Den and headed straight into the farther end. To anyone, it looked nothing but a hall of portraits with dozens of Suit of Armors lined up as if guarding the place, but to the founders' heir, it's a Royal Family residence.
The portrait of a Knight with an oversized sword riding on a Fat Pony shows up at an empty portrait at the center of the corridor. He was charging toward them both as if they were intruders, calling them rogues and other insulting names. "Stand back! You scoundrels. Thou shalt not pass beyond these gates or you'll answer to the blade." He yelled.
Smiling, Professor McGonagall steps forward and approaches the weird knight. "Good evening, Sir Cadogan." She greeted. "Lord Gryffindor is here to see you."
The scrawny armored wizard blinked his eyes several times before realizing who he was gawking at. Seeing the Lion Bullring in Harry's hand, he dropped his sword and knelt on the ground. "Forgive my insolence, my Lady."
"No need for that, Sir Cadogan."
"It is always a pleasure to serve the royal family of the founders." The man stated with reverence. "How can this loyal servant be of assistance?"
With a sigh, she replied, "Lord Gryffindor would like to make use of the Royal Apartments, please."
Sir Cadogan jumped to his feet. With a graceful bow, he swung his portrait open revealing a huge oak door. "The Royal Apartments is open to the sons of the founders and their guests." The woman who looked amused at the bloody git's antics rolls her eyes.
"Thank you, sir."
"The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty." And with a last bow, he takes his visor off and yelled at the retreating two. "Farewell, sirs and ladyships. And If ever you have the need of a noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir... Cadogan."
Shaking her head, McGonagall directed him to his quarters. It's completely furnished with two bedrooms, a sitting room, a dining room, and large glass windows with a nice view of the Black Lake outside. And the most remarkable part of it was the grand terrace where he can spend the afternoon reading a book under the shady trees that grew on its stone railings.
"Your trunks had already been brought up. And if you need anything, you just have to call for a house-elf." She instructed. "Mister William Weasley also sent me a letter about your staying at your personal residence in Hogsmeade on the weekends. That can be arranged. I will respond to him first thing in the morning."
Harry grinned. He couldn't thank her enough for her kindness.
"Shush, young man. Your father had been such a good man despite him being the cause of my premature grey hair," says McGonagall, brushing his thanks off. "Now, I would have to remind you. Just because you own more than half of this castle doesn't mean you are exempted from the rules, you understand?" she added, her voice back to being stern.
"Yes, ma'am." He nodded.
"Good. Now, I shall turn in for the night. I will see you at breakfast. Goodnight."
Harry tilted his head. He couldn't believe the sudden turn of events. So, before he loses his consciousness to sleep, he pulls the notebook Bill gave him and starts writing messages to his two most favorite redheaded men.
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—∞·To be continued in the next chapter·∞—
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Note: The last part of this chapter is referenced from "Lord Potter Black and the Curse of the DADA" which is one of my earliest works under the pen name, Chinitoblanco.