The three knocks echoed like gunshots in a forest, before they quickly faded. Several of the students jumped at the loud noise, with one of them letting out a squeak of fear. The door opened immediately inward after the echo faded, revealing a stern old lady in green.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, waving a hand towards the assembled students, which passed over their heads by a wide margin, but still caused several of the taller ones to duck in fear.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she replied tersely, "I will take them from here."
The door opened wider to allow the gathered children to pile into the vaguely warmer interior of the castle. They then followed Professor McGonagall through the massive hallways and into a side room next to the dull roar of the Great Hall nearby.
McGonagall looked upon the gathered students and started speaking, gathering their attention, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet feast 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 the 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 your are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."
McGonagall peered over them all, then finished with, "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 over a few students. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." She then left the room.
"So-" Hermione started to say.
"Shhh," Harry shushed her.
"Wha-?" Hermione didn't get to say any more because Harry then put his hand over her mouth, muffling Hermione. Looking intently at Hermione, Harry slowly pulled his hand away. Hermione stayed quiet, huffing slightly.
He signed to her, 'Professor said to stay quiet.'
"What?" Hermione mouthed. Harry signed the same thing, but slower. "What?"
'Ugh, forgot you don't know sign language,' he signed anyway. Pulling out a chalkboard, he wrote out, Professor said to stay quiet, and held it up to Hermione. Hermione stared at it for a few seconds, her eyes flicking between Harry and the chalkboard before she face-palmed.
"I don't think she meant it literally, Harry," Hermione said, ignoring Harry's glare.
A shriek sounded out from behind the four of them- Ron and Neville had been watching the byplay confusedly- causing them to spin around and see what it was all about. Silvery-white specters slithered silently sliding along strings of silver and Harry thinks he lost the alliteration somewhere in the middle there.
Either way, ghosts slid through the walls and into the room, causing a blonde girl to shriek and fall over, with two guys catching her. Two of the ghosts were arguing, one was a man in tights, high heels, puffed sleeves, lacy collars and sleeves, and rather astonishingly well-kept hair, and the other one was a fat monk in plain brown robes and a rather ugly bowl cut- the top of which was shaved.
"I keep telling you, Percival, that we shouldn't have let Peeves done that!"
"He's no more ghost than you or I!"
"Peeves can interact with the physical world, we cannot!"
"You cannot, you mean!" The monk turned to see the gathered students and blinked twice, before cutting off what the man in tights was about to say. "Oh dear, what have we here?"
That brought the other man up short, as he also looked at the students. "Students, I suppose."
"Are you all first years? Waiting to be sorted?"
The students were stunned into silence, staring at the ghostly bodies that surrounded them. The only ones unaffected were Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Neville tried his best, but his eyes were wide with fear and his body was shivering slightly.
Harry nodded, his curly red tresses bouncing slightly. 'Yup!' He signed to the ghosts. 'I'm Harry, who're you?'
"I'm The Fat Friar Percival, and my companion here is-" the Fat Friar was cut off by the other man.
"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington!" Sir Nicholas said pompously, puffing his chest out.
The Fat Friar Percival rolled his eyes dramatically. "I do hope some of you make it into Hufflepuff! It was my old house!"
"And I-" Sir Nicholas started, before the sound of a whip cracking cut him off.
Everyone turned to look at Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway. "Move along, now. The Sorting Ceremony is about to start." The ghosts, afraid to enact the wrath of the deputy headmistress, dutifully followed her orders and floated out through the walls and floor. Running an expert eye over the remaining students, Professor McGonagall spoke, "Line up in a single-file line and follow me."
The students, after a bit of shuffling, managed to get into a rough single-file line in front of the Professor. Knowing that it was as good as it was going to get, Professor McGonagall led them out of the room, up the stairs, and into the Great Hall. Harry was stuck between Hermione and Neville in the line, and could hear Hermione's whisper of, "It's enchanted to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
And, true to the name, the Great Hall was great. Harry thought it looked more grand than great, and stowed the idea of changing its name from Great Hall to Grand Hall in his mind to bring up to Dumbledore later. The room was thrumming with noise and magic, the gathering of students whispering amongst each other as ambient magic floated around, twinkling like stars. Harry had to bring up his hand to stop a sneeze when a small spark of magic burst in front of his nose.
At the far end of the hall, in front of the teachers' row, and at the end of the students' tables, sat a stool with an old, raggedy hat. A ripple of anxiety and nervousness slipped through the newest students, while a ripple of anticipation rippled through the older students. The hat, torn, ripped, dirty, and patched as it was, opened its brim.
"We're no strangers to love
"You know the rules, and so do I
"A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
"You wouldn't get this from any other guy
"I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
"Gotta make you understand-"
Professor McGonagall slapped the hat with the scroll she was holding, causing the hat to stop and sputter.
"Pfah! What? I was singing! Eh? Oh, the brats. Well, come on, then!" the hat harumphed loudly as the Professor nodded primly.
"When I call your name, you are to come forward and place the hat upon your head, which will sort you into your house."
"I thought we were pulling rabbits out of me this year!" the hat said, looking up at Professor McGonagall. The Professor did not respond, and instead slapped him with the still-rolled up scroll again. The hat harumphed again and started sulking.
"Abbot, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall called, starting the Sorting Ceremony.
Harry tuned out the roll call, and instead started looking around. The Grand Hall was, as the name implied, grand. Candles floated about near the skylight enchantment above their heads, spreading light to the tables below. At the head table where the teachers sat, several teachers were points of interest.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat upon a plush orange armchair, his golden robes glinting magnificently in the candlelight, with his silver beard trailing to the floor beneath, despite several ribbons and braids interrupting the flow. He clapped enthusiastically as each student got sorted, smiling brightly beneath is beard. His eyes twinkled merrily underneath bushy brows, sparks of magic flicking between them.
Severus Snape, the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired man glowered at the proceedings. He only clapped lightly as students got into Slytherin House, his glower increasing minutely as students got into Gryffindor House. His black robes seemed to suck in the light around him, despite their dirty appearance.
Quirinus Quirrell looked upon the proceedings with a bland face, twitching every so often as Professor McGonagall and the hat shouted. Harry caught his eye and stared at him. Quirrell started sweating as Harry didn't break contact, and nor was he able to break the contact. Harry finally gave him a bright smile and he nearly soiled himself then and there. 'That child knows something,' he thought to himself, his sweat soaking into his turban.
Eventually, Harry's name was called.
"Potter, Hydrangea!" Professor McGonagall didn't even stop in the middle of calling Harry's new name, but a confused look flashed over her face before she looked up.
Harry stepped out of the line and strode to the stool, a bright smile on her his face. Murmurs broke out amongst the school body the moment his name was called, students and teachers alike confused at the Potter they were not expecting. Harry grabbed the hat and reached into the open end, searching. A silence came over the hall at her actions, everyone now staring at her.
"Miss, er, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall started, "what are you doing?"
Harry briefly stopped and looked at the professor. "Trying to find a rabbit."
"Whatever for?"
"Wasn't that the thing? Pulling a rabbit out of a hat? The hat said so."
"Miss Potter, the hat was joking."
"Really? Then what's this?" Harry asked, finally grasping something and pulling it out. The edge of a sword barely missed Professor McGonagall's nose and cut open a gap on the brim of her hat. Harry held up a sword, its silver blade glittering in the candlelight, as the rubies on the pommel and guard glinted magnificently. "That's not a rabbit," Harry commented, rather put-out.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted, still hanging from Harry's hand.
The hall, if it was even possible, fell silent even more. Harry glanced around, back at the teachers, most of whose jaws were open, and at the students, who were staring in a mix of confusion and awe. In the silence of the hall, Harry's quiet voice echoed, "So, do I just…" he trailed off, seeing no answers forthcoming. Shrugging, he sat the hat on the rickety stool, and skipped down to sit next to Hermione and Neville at the Gryffindor table.
The hall exploded into noise once he sat down- cheering, applause, and exclamations of surprise drowning everything out. Hermione was staring at Harry again, causing him to squirm under her gaze. Offering the bushy-haired girl an awkward smile, Hermione finally stopped staring and let out a sigh.
The Grand Hall was still roaring in noise. A loud gunshot sounded out, and instantly, everyone quieted. Looking towards the sound of the gunshot, everyone saw Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore holding a lightly smoking gun, smiling happily. "I've always wanted to use that!" he said cheerily. Setting the firearm onto the table, he nodded at Professor McGonagall. "Continue."
The rest of the Sorting Ceremony was notably quieter after that, the name and house calls, and the applause after, breaking up the silence. Ron sat down next to Neville once he was sorted, and Professor McGonagall took the hat and stool away once the last student left for their new house table.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat patiently in his plush chair, even after Professor McGonagall sat down, and an air of anticipation rose in the hall, causing everyone to look at the Headmaster. "Minerva," Albus whispered, his voice echoing in the silent hall. "Why are they all staring at me?"
"They're waiting for a speech, Albus," she replied, looking incredibly exhausted.
"Oh!" Albus cleared his throat. "Food, please!" Food glimmered into being on the golden plates, goblets being filled with drinks. "Thank you!" Albus said, and dug in.
Noise exploded over the hall as the students started eating and talking. Harry dug in with gusto, mimicking several other starving students. Conversation was shared between the new students as it wandered around, but as their conversation came to include Harry, they all stopped and stared at the pile of food upon his plate that was being quickly devoured.
Harry, finally noticing the attention on him, quickly swallowed his latest mouthful and asked, "What?"
"How- how are you eating that much?" Seamus asked, astonished.
Even Ron was awed. "Mate, I know I eat a lot, but even I don't eat that much."
"Where does it go?" Lavender asked, looking over Harry's petite body.
"My stomach?" Harry answered, confused.
"Well duh," Hermione said. "But like…" She trailed off, not wanting to sound rude.
"You're short. Like, shorter than me." Lily Moon didn't have that issue. "You're tiny."
"Where does it go?" Lavender stressed, looking rather distressed.
"My stomach?" Harry replied, also distressed.
"Clearly. But you're a growing girl, aren't you, Hydrangea?" Parvati said.
"Uhh, yes! Sure!" Harry grasped onto the excuse like it was true. In truth, even he didn't know why he was eating so much- it happened when he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and it was happening now. He had a working guess that it was related to how he became a little girl, and how a lot of things came unbound, but it wasn't a solid idea.
The other students finally moved away from the topic and moved onto different ones, and eventually dinner shifted to desserts. Harry immediately grabbed the Treacle Tart, hoarding most of it, and piled up even more candies and cakes upon his plate- his hunger seemingly endless.
Surprisingly enough, while Harry was eating mounds upon mounds of food, his tableside manner was spotless- swallowing before talking, wiping his mouth, etc.- it was a surprise to everyone nearby. They compared Ron and Harry, noting that Ron's tableside manner was much worse compared to the bottomless abyss that was Harry. Ron, of course, noticed none of this, and for that matter neither did Harry; they were two peas in a pod like that.
Eventually, dinner came to a close, and so did the food disappear. The hall was silent as students and teachers alike digested their meals, until a faint snoring could be heard. Looking towards the sound of the disturbance, they could see Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore slumped over in his armchair, a blue nightcap with stars and crescent moons dancing about it sitting atop his head. Professor McGonagall's eye twitched- something that was somehow visible to all students- and she nudged him harshly, causing Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore to snort and look around blearily and mutter something unintelligible.
"The speech!" Professor McGonagall whispered harshly.
"Oh, right, right, of course. Ahem! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Dig in!" Dumbledore sat back down.
"The after-meal announcements!"
"Hm? Oh! Ahem!" he drew in a breath, then stopped. "What were they again?"
Professor McGonagall pulled him close by the ear and whispered fiercely to him. Once she released him, he stood.
"Students should note the Forest on the grounds is Forbidden. Hence the name, Forbidden Forest. Mr. Filch says to not do magic in the hallways. Quidditch is being held on the second week of term for those who wish to try out. Contact Madam Hooch for more information." He paused for a second, scratching his chin underneath his beard. He continued scratching it until Professor McGonagall nudged him again. "Oh! The third door on the third hallway of the third floor is out of bounds for this year, so please do not go near it."
Dumbledore looked grave for several seconds, before he perked back up. "Now, time for a song!" he pulled his wand out of his beard a wiggled it, making a ribbon come out of the end. "Pick your favorite tune and sing along!"
The cacophony of sounds would ruin any good musician's ears for the years to come, but all the students seemed to enjoy it. The teachers, of course, had earmuffs prepared beforehand.
yall ain't special, so ao3 crowd gets updated first, now.