*This chapter is almost the same as it is in the Sorcerer's stone. I just changed/added a few lines according to my story.*
It was the D-Day. All the families arrived at Kings Cross. Harry, Ron and Neville were excited yet nervous.
"All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous," Molly told the kids.
The older kids have already passed through the barrier.
Harry pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.
"Let's go together, shall we?" Lily smiled. Harry nodded. Lily and James stood on his either sides. They started to walk toward it. People jostled them on their way to platforms nine and ten. The Potters walked more quickly. Harry focused harder. Leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn't be able to stop — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes . . he kept on running . . .he opened his eyes.
A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it. James ruffled Harry's hair. The Weasleys and Longbottoms followed them. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between
their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. The first few carriages were already packed with students, some
hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. The Potters pushed their cart off down the platform in search of empty seats.
"Prongs!" Sirius came running over to them. "I found our compartment," he grinned.
"Cool!" James grinned. "Let's go," he led the group to the compartment near the end of the train.
The elders took the luggage and carried them into the compartment.
"Mother!" Percy called from the crowd. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny red and gold badge on his chest with the letter P on it.
"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves —"
"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said Fred, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."
"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said George. "Once —"
"Or twice —"
"A minute —"
"All summer —"
"Oh, shut up," said Percy.
"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" asked George.
"Because he's a prefect," Molly said fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term — send me an owl when you get there."
She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.
"Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've — you've blown up a toilet or —"
"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."
"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."
"It's not funny. And look after Ron."
"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."
"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already.
"Now, listen," Alice leaned closer to Neville. "I've packed everything for you and if you've forgotten anything, I'll send them to you."
Neville nodded.
"And don't you worry about sorting," Frank patted on his shoulder. "Be yourself. But I would love if you're a Gryffindor!"
"FRANK!" Alice glared at him.
Frank laughed. "I'm just kidding. I know you would do great no matter the house you're in."
Lily and the marauders were giving their pep talks to Harry. Peter took time to get back from his mission in Italy.
"Nervous?" Lily asked.
Harry nodded. "A bit."
"It's alright. You're going to have a good time," James assured.
"Keep writing," Remus reminded Harry.
"Keep your wand closer," Sirius said.
"All the time," Peter added.
"It might sound odd, but never lose your wand, love," Lily said.
"Yeah, because remember what Mr. Ollivander said? It's a powerful wand," James added.
Harry nodded. Everything sounded weird. But he was used to precautions.
"If it breaks, go to the headmaster. He can fix it," Sirius said.
Harry looked confused. "You ...you mean Dumbledore?"
The elders nodded.
"And always be there for your friends," Remus added.
The engine roared.
"Hurry up!" Molly said, and the Weasleys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their Ginny began to cry.
"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."
"George!"
"Only joking, Mom."
Neville got onto the train as Alice kissed him goodbye.
Harry followed him after Lily kissed him goodbye.
The train began to move. The boys saw their families waving. Ginny was half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.
The boys watched their families disappear as the train rounded the corner. They went back to their compartment. Houses flashed past the window. The three felt a great leap of excitement.
"Is it just me or are you nervous too?" Neville asked.
"I am," Harry replied.
"Me too. But... We'll be fine," Ron assured.
The three kept talking about many things they did over the past two weeks.
"Hey, Ron."
The twins were back to the compartment.
"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train —Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Right," mumbled Ron.
"See you later, then," George said.
"Bye," said Harry, Ron and Neville. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.
While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.
Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"
Harry, who heard about the trolley from his uncles, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor. Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."
"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on —"
"You don't want this, its all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."
"Mum packed me some chicken sandwiches too. You can have them," Neville offered taking out his package.
"Yeah, go on, have something," said Harry, he was always taught to share. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron and Neville, eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies.
They got their hands on chocolate frogs.
"See what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."
"Oh no!" Neville groaned.
"What happened?"
"I've lost him! Trevor, my toad. He keeps getting away from me!" Neville was searching his robes and under seats.
"He'll turn up," said Harry.
"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him . . ." He left the compartment. "I'll go have a look out side."
"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Let's try to summon him. George told me this spell to find lost things," Ron took his wand.
The compartment door slid open again. Neville was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.
"We haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.
"Er — all right."
He cleared his throat.
He waved his wand, "Lost somewhere in the dark, I summon Trevor back!" but nothing happened.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She said all this very fast.
Harry looked at Ron and Neville, and was relieved to see by their stunned faces that he hadn't learnt all the course books by heart either.
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.
"Harry Potter," said Harry.
"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.
"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . . Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad."
And she left, taking Neville with her.
"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."
They both got up to search for Trevor under their seats.
Neville came back with Trevor after a few minutes. "He fell asleep in the next compartment," he mumbled. "Did you hear about Gringotts? Its been all over the Daily Prophet — someone tried to rob a high security vault."
Harry and Ron stared.
"Really? What happened to them?"
"Nothing, that's why it's such big news," Neville shrugged. "My parents were busy with it."
"They haven't been caught," Ron added. "My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."
Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned.
He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world without his family that has been protecting him all these years. It had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.
The compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Hermione Granger this time.
Three boys entered.
"Is it true?" the pale, lean boy said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking.
"And my names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger.
Draco Malfoy looked at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He turned to Neville. "Who're you?"
"Neville Longbottom," Neville glared at Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.
Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.
"Would you leave? Because I'm trying to change into my robes," Neville cut him off before he could say anything.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Longbottom," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your uncle. He didn't know what was good for him, either. Oh wait!" He smirked. "It was Potter's aunt who killed him," Draco Malfoy turned to Harry. "You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and these peasants, and it'll rub off on you," Malfoy sniggered. "I don't understand why you are together in the first place."
Harry, Ron and Neville stood up.
"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.
"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron or Neville.
"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.
A large toad was sitting on his face and Goyle screamed and jumped. Something trickled down his face. Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as
Goyle swung Trevor round and round, howling, and when Trevor finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more toads lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.
"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Neville picking up Trevor.
"I think he's been knocked out," Neville mumbled. "No, he fell asleep."
"Did your toad pee on his face?" Ron laughed. Harry and Neville laughed.
"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."
"My dad said the same thing," Neville nodded. "Sorry you had to hear that from him, Harry. We know it wasn't your aunt's fault...you know...what happened to my uncle. It was the death eaters. My parents said she was one of the powerful witches they've ever seen."
Ron turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"
"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"
"Trevor has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her.
"Thank you, Hermione," Neville smiled at her."Would you mind leaving while we change?"
"All right — I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" she told Ron.
Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down. They quickly changed into their robes.
A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. Neville looked lost. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.
The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice:
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.
Harry met Hagrid a couple of times in Diagon Alley.
"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years. Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Hagrid called the first years.
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!"
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
Harry has seen only pictures of the castle in his parents' photos.
"The photos are nothing compared to the real castle," Lily told him once.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron and Neville were followed into their boat by Hermione.
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.
They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.
"Everyone here?"Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in
emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's remembered what his father said. "She is not someone to cross."
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of Harry's old cottage in Kielder. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right —the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years 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. "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 earn your 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.
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 Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber.
Harry swallowed.
"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" he asked Ron.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? "Even my folks didn't tell me anything."
"What on earth would we have to do? I haven't expected something like this the moment we arrived," Neville looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her.
They were never this nervous before.
Then something happened that made them jump about a foot in the air — several people behind them screamed.
"What the — ?" Harry 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 first years. 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.
Nobody answered.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them.
"About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few people nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall 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."
Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron and Neville behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. Though he lives in mansion, Hogwarts looked far more splendid. 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, 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."
Harry remembered reading it too.
Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. His mother wouldn't let it into the house.Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. 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:
"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.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry and Neville.
"I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a House for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.
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.
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 heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.
He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always
been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because he was the weird kid.
"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, Sea-
mus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.
When Neville Longbottom was called, he almost 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 quickly.
"MacDougal, Morag."
Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: 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.
"Moon" . . . , "Nott" . . . , "Parkinson" . . . , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . . , then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . . , and then, at last —
"Potter, Harry!"
As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
The last thing Harry 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. "Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Would yku mind relaxing and open your mind?"
Harry relaxed as the hat said.
"Hmmm...Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. . . . So where shall I put you?"
Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, its all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you're sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved and proud to be sorted into Gryffindor like his whole family, and not put in Slytherin. He was getting the loudest cheer. He sat next to Neville. Percy got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water. He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.
And now there were only four 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 crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy pompously across Harry 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 pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago. 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. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.
He remembered Sirius once said, "He's off his rocker! The best wizard...but off his rocker."
Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food 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, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.
"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.
"Can't you — ?"
"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "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 Gryffindor Tower."
"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mim—" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.
"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.
"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole 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 at 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're 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."
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 Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.
"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless 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 éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding . . .
As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him." The others laughed.
"My dad's a wizard," Dean Thomas said.
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 very difficult —"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing —").
Harry, 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. Another Professor in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past the turban straight into Harry's eyes — and a sharp, hot pain shot across the mark on Harry's neck.
"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his neck.
"What is it?" asked Percy.
"N-nothing."
The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teachers look — a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.
"Is that Snape?" Harry asked Percy. His family mentioned Snape a few times.
"If that greasy Snivellus is being a git, just write to me," Sirius said when Lily wasn't looking.
"Yes, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job, the one with the turban. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got 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.
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."
Dumbledore's 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 who did. "He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.
"Must be," said Percy, 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. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.
Dumbledore 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. At last, only the Weasley 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 Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.
A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.
"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves — show yourself."
A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.
"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"
There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.
"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"
He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks, almost dropping them on Neville's head. Neville quickly moved. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.
"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects."
"Peeves is a pain in the neck. But if you're upto something you shouldn't be doing, he's the best bet," James told him once.
"Here we are," Percy said.At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
"Password?" she said.
"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase — they were obviously in one of the towers — they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.
"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings.
Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once. Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at
once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it — then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold — there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking. He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.
xxxxxxxxx
"There, look."
"Where?"
"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his mark?"
Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tip-toe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he
was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes. There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led some where different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"
Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry, Ron and Neville managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.
At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry — he hated him.
Harry lost two points for Gryffindor in his first week because of his "cheek".
Ron, Harry and Neville met Hagrid after their classes for tea and vented out as much as they can.