The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green
robes stood there. She had a very stern face. She reminded Dudley of a teacher at his old school who he hadn't liked very much.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor and into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, most of the students standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. Dudley caught sight of Draco, standing with Crabbe and Goyle and smirked. Perhaps that short, blond boy might provide entertaining in the weeks ahead.
"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."
"As long as I'm not stuck with that Granger girl," Dudley whispered to Ron and Dean. "Or that Draco."
He stopped talking as McGonagall fixed him with a cold stare.
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and
Slytherin," she continued.
"Gryffindor is what your brothers are in," Dudley whispered again.
"Excuse me, I don't permit students to talk why I am talking in class or out of it," McGonagall said, sternly. "Please, keep quiet."
Across the hall, Draco was smirking, and a few other heads turned to look in Dudley's direction. Dudley narrowed his eyes slightly but held his tongue. He could feel his face growing red as it always did when he was angry. He wasn't used to people speaking to him like that.
"Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts," McGonagall said, her eyes still fixed on Dudley. "Your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking 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, on Ron's smudged nose and finally on Dudley who had chocolate around his mouth. Dudley raised his sleeve and wiped it clean.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber, and Dudley turned to Ron and Dean. "I hope we don't have her for many lessons." He said in a carrying whisper.
"Fred and George said you don't want to cross her," Ron replied.
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Dean asked Ron
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
"Probably won't be too hard," Dudley said, confidendentally. "Nothing we can't handle."
"You can do magic then?" a sandy-haired boy said skeptically.
"Of course," Dudley said, glaring at him.
Across the room, Draco let out a disbelieving grunt.
Before Dudley could say anything, 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 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."
Dudley got into line behind the 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.
Dudley had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.
Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the
ghosts shone misty silver. Dudley looked around, weighing up the tables. The Slytherins, he noted, had quite a few larger boys among them. One who caught his eye looked more like a picture of a troll that Dudley had seen in his picture book than a boy.
Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
Dudley glanced up. 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.
McGonagall placed an old, worn hat on a stool. Dudley glanced back at Ron who shrugged.
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 …"
The hat sang a long song about the four houses and what traits they each had. In Dudley's opinion, he would be quite a fit for all of them.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Dudley. "I'll
kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
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 moments pause …
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Dudley 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; Dudley could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.
After "Davis, Tracey," was sorted into Slytherin, the hat called …
"Dursley, Dudley,"
Dudley stepped forward, suddenly feeling a little nervous. Every eye in the hall was on him as he put the hat on his head.
"Hmm, interesting, interesting," a voice said in his ear. "An adventurous mind. Plenty of confidence. A refusal to back down. An admiration for those with power and strength. Yes, I know just the house that will shape you on your journey. You will truly unlock your potential in GRYFFINDOR."
The last word was shouted. Dudley grinned as he headed to the Gryffindor table. Gryffindor did seem like the best house—where the bravest go.
He sat down next to a tall boy with glasses who he recognized as been a brother of Rons. "Welcome, Dudley, welcome!" the boy said, shaking his hand. "Percy Weasley, Prefect."
Sometimes, Dudley 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 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. Dudley groaned.
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 Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."
Dudley groaned again. What had he done to deserve sharing a house with Granger and crybaby Longbottom?
Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called. The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.
Dudley clapped when Dean Thomas was made Gryffindor, and he pushed Neville Longbottom aside to make room for him on the bench.
"Nice one," Dudley said as "Turpin, Lisa" was made a Ravenclaw.
At last it was time for "Weasley, Ronald!" He was pale green. The hat was only on his head for a few seconds before it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"
Dudley applauded. He had been unsure about Ron originally, but he had been quick to have Dudley's back during the confrontation with Malfoy on the train.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Dudley as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin.
Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
Dudley 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. Dudley didn't know
whether to laugh or not.
"Is he - a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.
"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But
he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Dudley?"
Dudley's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint
Humbugs.
He started piling food onto his plate and wolfing it down. Across the table, Hermione eyes him curiously, but when there was food to be eaten, Dudley could just ignore her. Dean was talking to the Hogwarts ghost who was called Nearly Headless Nick, and nearby, Dudley could hear Seamus Finnigan and Neville talking about their families.
Dudley, 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.
There was a teacher in an absurd turban who was talking to a teacher with greasy
black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.
After they had all finished eating, Professor Dumbledore got to
his feet again. The hall fell silent. "Ahern - 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."
Dudley 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."
Dudley's eyes lit up at the mention of dangerous beasts and he made a mental promise to explore the forest as soon as he could.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried
Dumbledore. Dudley 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 …"
Dudley didn't join in. He hated singing. "Stupid song," he muttered to Dean after it was over. Dean chuckled.
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Dudley was unsure whether he liked him. Years of living with Vernon and Petunia made him distrustful of anything too weird, and Dumbledore was bizarre—even if he had defeated two dark wizards.
The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Dudley grumbled. He hated walking. He especially hated walking up stairs—and their were a lot of them.
He barely noticed that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging
tapestries.
They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Dudley was wanting to sit down and rest. He had NEVER walked this much before.
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 on
Neville's head.
Dudley laughed, cruelly. It seemed even Peeves didn't think much of Neville.
"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. Here we are."
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 - Neville needed a leg up - 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 Dudley through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."
Dudley, exhausted by the long day and by the long walk didn't answer. He fell asleep at once.