Chapter 4 – Don't You
"Firs' years! Firs' years over 'ere!" came a loud, booming voice.
Scott was the first to spot him – not that it was particularly difficult – visible by the bullseye lantern bobbing in the gloom. The man was at least ten feet tall, with a large tangled beard. He struck an imposing figure, almost bearing down on them, making even the tallest among them – Scott included – look positively miniscule in comparison.
The first years gathered around the man. "Name's Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I'll be guidin' yeh down 'cross the lake to the castle, now." He strode off up the platform, heading for a gap between two walls.
They sped up to follow in his wake, excitement and nervousness apparent in most faces. Scott made sure he didn't end up anywhere close to either Pellon or Skeres as they strode past rocky outcrops and through tree thickets.
"Yeh'll catch yer first sight o' the castle in just a mo'!"
He was right. As they emerged from the trees, they were suddenly granted a view that made Scott's heart leap with exhilaration. On a tall rocky hill opposite from them was an enormous structure, bedecked with numerous towers and turrets that stretched into the sky. Thousands of glowing windows lined multiple storeys, of which Scott could count at least seven – excluding the towers and ground floor. Situated between them and the castle was a great expanse of water – a large loch – and it was to its shore that they headed. Along the waterside were boats large enough to comfortably accommodate four each.
Hagrid took up a boat all on his own. Scott climbed into a boat with Ethan and Alex, as well as an Asian girl with long dark hair.
"Katie Bell," she introduced, smiling primarily at Scott.
"Scott Carter," he replied, grinning crookedly.
She looked expectantly at the other two.
"I'm Alex," the blond boy said warmly.
Ethan mumbled something.
"I'm sorry?" Katie asked.
"Ethan Croaker," he said clearly, red faced.
As the boats sailed across the lake, propelled by magic, Scott looked back up at the castle. He'd seen pictures of it before, mostly in books, but for some reason they'd never truly conveyed the true majesty of the structure. He'd begged his parents – on more than one occasion – to allow him to come and visit the castle – to no avail. They'd always said that his first experience of Hogwarts should be his first year there, and now that he was finally here, he started to see where they had meant.
When they neared the rock wall of the castle hill, they heard Hagrid call:
"Watch yer heads!"
The ivy that draped over the stone before them hid the opening over the water that their boats now sailed through. Beyond a watery tunnel was a cavern, where they each came to a stop at a stone embankment. After disembarking, they walked up a passageway that led onto the grassy lawn in the shadow of the castle. Hagrid led them up to a pair of magnificent oak doors, enormous in size. After knocking, the doors swung open, and there stood a severe looking witch. She was rather tall, and wore a pointed hat that made her taller yet.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she said to the enormous man, "I will take them from here."
Scott guessed that this was Professor Minerva McGonagall. He'd heard her mentioned at home, and knew that she was Deputy Headmistress, as well as the Head of Gryffindor House. They followed her inside, where they found themselves in an enormous chamber, so large that Scott could only barely make out the dark ceiling above. Opposite them was a wide staircase of polished marble that evidently lead to the rest of the castle. To their right was yet another door, somewhat smaller than the one they had entered through. He could hear a tumult of voices from beyond, and assumed that was where the rest of the school had gathered whilst they waited for the first years to cross the lake.
McGonagall, however, showed them into a side chamber off the hall. They gathered within, awaiting whatever came next.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor McGonagall," she said. "The start-of-term feast will shortly begin, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you are to be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is very important as, whilst you are attending Hogwarts, your house will act as something resembling a family during your time here. You will attend classes with your housemates, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house's common room.
"The four houses are thus; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff. Each has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards."
Scott nodded at this. He had, of course, researched said history thoroughly.
"Whilst you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs and successes will earn your house points," McGonagall continued, "whilst rule-breaking of any sort shall lose your house its points. At the year's end, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes before the entire school. I suggest that you all smarten yourselves up before entering the Great Hall."
Her eyes lingered for a moment on Ethan's robes, which were bulging in odd places, and untidily creased.
"I shall return for you once we are ready. Please wait quietly." She swept from the chamber.
Scott thought furiously to himself. 'Hogwarts: A History' had mentioned about a thousand interesting facts about the school, but not once had it ever mentioned how exactly students were Sorted into houses. This fact had always frustrated him, but he had always assumed there would be a written test of some sort. This idea, however, didn't exactly fit with the fact that the entire school would be watching. Somehow, he couldn't imagine that such a large body of teenagers would be content watching fifty-odd eleven year olds fill out a quiz for an hour.
What then, did the Ceremony actually entail? There'd been contextless references to events and individuals involved in the history of the ceremony – the vague concept of a 'Hatstall' (a supposedly rare occurrence where a student's house was uncertain for an unreasonably long time), and the unfortunate Sorting of Angus Buchanan (a smuggled Squib). He glanced around to see if anyone else had alighted onto an answer.
"Any ideas about what we have to do?" Alex asked, trying not to sound nervous.
Both Scott and Ethan shook their heads. "If we have to fight a Nundu, I think I'll see if I can grab a giraffe haunch from one of the house tables," Ethan began babbling. "I'm not sure what I'll do if there's a Chimaera, but –"
"I'm not sure they provide giraffe haunches here, Ethan," Scott said, thankful to chuckle at something. "My Mum said they don't have foreign –"
"What did Mummy say, Carter?"
It was Pellon, with Skeres beside him.
"None of your business, prat," Scott snapped, firing up at once. "Though I imagine she said a lot more than yours ever will."
Pellon blinked rapidly, as though struck. It seemed as though he had nothing to say in response, gazing blankly at him. Skeres, however, leapt to his defence at once.
"How dare you! Take it back, Carter!" she shrieked, whipping her wand out furiously.
The other first years they were crammed in the room with were all staring at the confrontation, now entirely distracted from their anxiety over the Sorting Ceremony. A few boys were watching eagerly, including a tall wiry haired youth.
"Don't you stand on some moral high-ground, Skeres!" Scott said, his wand inches from hers, cramped together as they were. "What was it you said on the train?"
"Funny, I was under the impression I wasn't allowed to say that word anymore!" Her face twisted into a vicious smile. "But if you insist: M–"
"McGonagall!" Alex hissed, his head emerging from where it had been poking through the doorway.
They quickly stowed their wands back in their robes as Professor McGonagall entered. "I do hope no one has been arguing? I would be most displeased if you embarrassed yourselves in front of the entire school." She gazed balefully at them all. "No? Very well, follow me."
Scott was too incensed to continue to feel nervous as the first years filtered out of the room and across the flagstones to the Great Hall. He could feel Skeres burning a hole in the side of his face with her eyes, but didn't look at her. He knew full well that he'd completely overstepped when he'd made the comment about Pellon's mother. He wasn't sure if he could bear to look at him either, so settled for gazing at the stone floor.
He tried to occupy his simultaneously guilty and furious mind with the make of the flooring, wondering if the flagged stone had always been a fixture of the castle, or if it had been added in the thirteenth century, when flagstone floors became more prevalent in –
He looked up when he realised they'd entered the Great Hall, his brain quickly finding another topic to distract itself from feeling any particularly violent emotions. The Hall was enormous, decorated with thousands of floating wax candles and lined with paintings of scenes and people. Four incredibly long tables occupied the Hall length-wise, whilst a fifth sat along the opposite end of the chamber, facing the many students who occupied the benches at the four tables. The school staff sat at the fifth table, including a silver-bearded figure that Scott immediately recognised as the eminent Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Scott looked upwards, past the beams from which coloured banners hung. Above were twinkling stars, and the pale moon. The cavernous room's ceiling was enchanted, Scott knew, to mimic the sky outside the hall. It gave the impression that the Hall lacked a ceiling at all.
They were instructed to line up in front of the teacher's table, facing the school body. Before them was a wooden stool, upon which sat a frayed wizard's hat. It looked so battered and old that Scott wondered who on earth it could belong to, and why they had mistreated their headwear so severely. The entire Hall seemed to be gazing at the hat expectantly, as though waiting for it to do something.
They waited for a few more moments, before a hole suddenly opened just above the hat's brim, and a voice issued out:
"Yet again I come to say
Welcome one, and welcome all
To another year at Hogwarts School
As autumn leaves begin to fall
The Sorting Hat has been tasked
With the placement of these young
Which House will they belong within,
Now they are aged ten-and-one?
Perhaps in brave Gryffindor
Donning their scarlet and gold?
With stubborn pride and chivalry,
This House is the one for the bold
Maybe can-do Hufflepuff
With the badger deep in soil
I think you'll find these good chaps
To be down-to-earth and loyal
Or will they be in Slytherin,
The crafty and the cunning?
Those of clearest ambition
Know when best to start running!
Do you belong in Ravenclaw,
The House of wit and learning?
These creative kids are smart
And knowledge is their yearning!
But listen to me, prattling on
When I should give instruction!
Just pop me atop your head
And I'll get to your induction!
With my brim over your crown
Your mind – it will be plain to me
I'll put you where you belong
Don't believe me? Wait and see!"
The Hall erupted into applause as the Sorting Hat finished its song, and Scott heard several audible sighs of relief from those near to him. Ethan looked slightly crestfallen, as though the prospect of taming a Nundu would have appealed to him far more. Scott was imagining what the Hat's song might have sounded like with a backing track, a few synths, and perhaps some accompanying vocals. He was shaken out of his reverie by McGonagall's crisp voice.
"When I call your name, sit down on the stool and place the Sorting Hat on your head," she called. "Abercrombie, Ainslee!"
A girl dashed forward and jammed the hat over her head, which fell far past her eyes. Only a moment passed before –
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted.
The far right table cheered as Abercrombie made her way over to them. The Hufflepuffs seemed pleased to already be accepting new members into their fold and Scott could see them merrily congratulating her as she sat down next to a girl with bright blue hair.
The vague clues that Scott had amassed regarding the Sorting process were starting to make a certain amount of sense now – a Hatstall would clearly occur when the hat surpassed five minutes in deciding a student's house, and poor Angus Buchanan had been humiliated in front of the entire school by a piece of headgear.
"Belby, Marcus!" McGonagall's voice came again.
A thin, nervous looking boy made his way over to the stool and placed the hat on his head. A few moments later –
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat yelled this time.
"Bell, Katie!"
Katie sat down on the stool and after placing the Sorting Hat on her head –
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat roared, though not as loudly as the left-most table. Scott could see a pair of identical redheads whistling loudly as Katie made her way over to them.
After Katie, 'Bobbin, Melinda' was sorted ("RAVENCLAW!") and then 'Carmichael, Edward' ("RAVENCLAW!"). As the pudgy boy called Carmichael made his way over to the table beside Gryffindor's, Scott suddenly felt a great upheaval somewhere in his navel. He knew he must be next, and sure enough, McGonagall spoke again:
"Carter, Scott!"
He stepped forward, sitting himself heavily on the stool. He glanced at his wrist, checking the time out of curiosity, and so as to not have to stare back at the countless eyes on him. He took the hat in his hands and brought it down onto his head. The hat fit him better than those that had worn it prior, and so he had to angle it to block his view of the staring students.
"Hmm... Curious," the hat's voice spoke in his ear. "Yes, a deep affection for your family, and of course, you want to make them proud. The way in which you apply yourself; the mark of a hard-worker, although perhaps something more? Yes, a desire to prove yourself; ambition, or potential for, at least. I can see why that wand chose you, what with the way your mind works. No, the Badger would not suit you, I can see. Determination, yes, but not always. Cunning, quick-thinking, witty. Precocious, but perhaps... Yes, here I see something that weighs on you."
Scott resisted the urge to try to hide his thoughts, not that he would have had any clue how to do so.
"You see it as an enemy," the hat continued. "A recklessness, a desire for justice. And boldness, oh yes."
Don't you put me in Gryffindor, he thought furiously.
"Don't put you in Gryffindor? Why not? What could possibly prevent you from fitting in there?"
He considered it, he really did. He wasn't entirely sure why he was railing against the hat placing him in Gryffindor so much. He supposed it was because the traits he found most frustrating about himself fit in so well there. He'd always been easy to rile up, and his experiences with Skeres proved that he was quick to jump to action when pushed. He didn't like that. He'd always thought that logic should win in any confrontation, but he'd struggled to fight with words over physicality.
He didn't like how certain the hat sounded, but there had to be something keeping it from choosing just yet. He just had to make it see things from his perspective, and to do that he needed an approach.
I want you to put me in Ravenclaw, he thought resolutely.
"Ravenclaw? I can see your reasons for wanting to be there. Your father –"
This isn't about where my Dad wants me to be, he thought, keeping his mind as calm as possible. He couldn't let the hat prove its point.
"No?" the hat asked, sounding immensely doubtful.
I think you're not seeing the full picture. How do I know that what you decide for me can be trusted?
The hat took a few moments before finally answering. "In all my years Sorting students, I have never once judged wrongly. I said as much in my song – I can see you paid attention – your mind is laid bare for me to see; all of it. The Founders of this school created me to be entirely infallible, an objective determiner created with the compounded components of The Four. You think it wise to dispute my judgement?" It didn't sound angry, but Scott could hear the pride seep into the hat's voice. Excellent. "That seems awfully bold and reckless of you, I should think, making you a –"
But think, how much can me making my case hurt? I'd like us to be sure, first.
Scott could tell that the hat was thinking, and he suddenly wished he could read the hat's thoughts as readily as it could his.
"Hmm, you wish to prove to me that I am mistaken? Very well. Make your case, and then I shall make my decision."
Scott thought to himself, though he knew the hat must be able to hear the whole thing. He considered his options. His results in primary school were impressive, but hardly evidence of much. He considered more...
I'm sure you've seen the sphinx in my head? he asked the hat.
"Indeed, I have."
Can you see my exact lines of thinking when I faced it?
"Yes, you acted without properly considering. Hardly the actions of a Ravenclaw, I should think."
I mean during the riddles. Cool logic, and all that. How I reasoned its wordplay, how I solved the puzzle?
"Yes, yes, very impressive," the hat said, sounding amused. "But are you certain that you're not simply trying to be where your father wants you?"
Maybe that's part of the reason, he thought, shrugging helplessly. But I don't hold anything Gryffindors value in high esteem. I've never really... well...
The thought trailed off in his head.
You said Ravenclaws value wit, and knowledge. Maybe you disagree, but that's how I see myself. And I like to think that I'm plenty creative, too.
"You certainly have all the passion and idiosyncrasies I'd expect from the Eagle," the hat said, sounding begrudging.
But that's not the end of it. That cool logic, that quick reasoning? You said that you're the combination of the Founders' values. That means you, too, value discussion and understanding. I managed to convince you to hear me out, didn't I?
"You thought to use that piece of knowledge against me, did you? Yes, I've already said that you had an impressive degree of wit, but that hardly –"
The hat cut itself off quite suddenly, and Scott guessed that the hat must have realised the angle he was playing.
"Clever. Very clever," it murmured. He could practically hear the smirk in its voice. "If I am as I said; a culmination of the Founder's values and thought, then I likely contain a degree of stubborn pride."
Scott shrugged again, though it was a foolish gesture when the hat was already reading his mind, and so was, perhaps, the plan he'd put into effect.
You're right about me paying attention. Your certainty about your choices would be central to that pride, surely? But just nineteen years ago, were you certain? It's in all the history books, you know. A hatstall never happens more than twice a century, they say.
He lifted the hat an inch to look back down at his watch.
You've less than thirty seconds left, you might want to hurry.
"Ha!" The hat's laugh echoed around the chamber, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Well, well, this is a curious turn of events," it said, quieter again. "Yes, I think I know where you ought to go, for all the good it will do you."
Scott crossed his fingers, still gazing at his watch as the last few seconds ticked by.
"RAVENCLAW!"
He swept the hat off his head, grinning. He made his way over to the clapping Ravenclaw table, sitting near to those who had already been sorted. He noticed the prefect from the train was proffering his hand, and Scott shook it as a sign of good faith, any lingering resentment forgotten.
"Robert Hilliard," the boy said.
"Scott Carter," he replied.
He glanced back up at the hat who was now sorting the next student in the 'C' category, but his eyes were drawn to Albus Dumbledore, who was examining a golden pocketwatch with some humour.
'Chang, Cho' hurried over to their table, the hat having just announced her as yet another Ravenclaw. The next to be Sorted was 'Coote, Ritchie', who found himself at the Gryffindor table after fifteen seconds of consideration from the hat.
Ethan came next, and unfortunately, the moment his name was read out, Cyril the 'toad' gave a momentous croak. He heard a few people snigger and mutter 'Croaker' under their breaths. Ethan, red-faced from embarrassment and desperately attempting to stuff Cyril's webbed hands out of sight, sat down on the stool. The hat had barely brushed his head before it cried, "RAVENCLAW!"
He dashed over to sit next to Scott, though he nearly tripped over his untied shoelaces on the way there. Another series of sniggers greeted this fresh humiliation, and by the time Ethan had managed to sit at the Ravenclaw table, he closely resembled a tomato with glasses.
Scott looked over at the Slytherin table curiously, having noticed that no new students had been placed in their house yet. By the looks of things, this fact had not escaped their notice, either. They looked rather put-out at the hat at the moment, and a few kept glancing at the Ravenclaw table, which had already begun to fill up quite generously.
They didn't wait too much longer, however, as 'Derby, Jacob' was eventually Sorted into their house. Derby strode over to the table of clapping individuals, as Scott heard hissing from the Gryffindor table behind him. He turned and saw the two redhead boys from earlier doing the heckling, while another boy who looked like he could be their brother swatted them on the arm.
'Edgecombe, Marietta' ended up in Ravenclaw, too, though 'Elliot, Henry' went to Hufflepuff. Then Ravenclaw received yet another member in the form of 'Fawcett, Sophie', and Hufflepuff got 'Fawley, Saville'. Victoria Frobisher went to Gryffindor, and Jemma Green went to Slytherin.
"Haworth, Declan!"
Scott watched interestedly, recalling his meeting of the boy that he now watched walk across the shrinking line to the stool. He looked no less pale than he had at Madam Malkin's, and had the same bored expression on his face. The hat took a few moments to decide where to put him before it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"
Haworth opted to sit where he wouldn't be bothered by anyone else, though Scott was burning with curiosity. Then, 'Higgs, Terence' went to Slytherin, and 'Hooper, Geoffrey' strode over to the Gryffindor table. The hat continued to sort yet more students, though apparently no more to Ravenclaw. Scott wondered if they had all been exhausted early on, and now every other house was getting their turn.
After 'Lynn, Trinity' headed for the Slytherin table, and 'Midgen, Eloise' went to Hufflepuff, McGonagall called out another name, "McLaggen, Cormac!"
The wiry haired boy that Scott had noticed earlier swaggered forward, sweeping the hat onto his head. It cried, "GRYFFINDOR!" almost immediately, and he made his way to the next table over from Scott.
A Graham Montague went to Slytherin next, and Leanne Moore to Gryffindor. The Sorting dragged on, and Scott became aware that he was feeling incredibly hungry. The pasty and sweets he'd eaten on the train were long forgotten by his stomach by this point, and he was beginning to wonder how much longer the ceremony would continue.
"Pellon, Emile!" McGonagall cried, and the small boy that Scott had so quickly come to fervently dislike stepped forward. The hat had barely touched his head when it, almost ferociously, had screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
Scott found that he was about as surprised as when he'd been informed by his parents that Father Christmas was, in fact, not real. He, of course, had worked out the make-believability of the red-suited fat man far prior, when he'd discovered a letter supposedly delivered by him written entirely in his mother's handwriting.
Pellon smiled in a self-satisfied way as he went to sit at the Slytherin table. Scott didn't have long to mull over his frustrations toward the boy when another name was announced by McGonagall.
"Skeres, Scarlett!"
Skeres, Scott was pleased to note, looked faintly anxious as she sat on the stool. The hat's placement was not as instantaneous as Scott had thought it might be. In fact, it took at least a minute for the hat to reach its decision, and Skeres had gripped the stool so tightly in the meantime that he had been sure it would have splintered from the pressure.
"SLYTHERIN!"
Relief was palpable on her face as she made her way over to her table, and Scott wondered briefly what had delayed the hat so much.
Only a handful of students were still waiting to be sorted now, and they eventually moved on from the 'S' initial after Sloper went to Gryffindor and Stebbins, Stede, and Summers all went to Hufflepuff. After the Ts and Us passed, they finally came to the last remaining student.
"Wroxton, Alexis!"
Alex placed the hat on his head, and there it remained for a solid three minutes. Scott's stomach gave a desperate rumble before the hat eventually cried, "RAVENCLAW!"
Alex made his way over to sit opposite him and Ethan, a big grin on his face. They both clapped with the rest of the house, stopping only when McGonagall took away the hat and stool, and Professor Dumbledore stood up.
"Welcome, all!" he said. "Welcome to yet another year at Hogwarts. I'd like to say a few words before we begin our delightful feast, if you will permit me."
Scott's stomach gave yet another grumble, which he thought for sure could be heard from just about anywhere in the hall. He sighed, preparing for a blustering speech.
"Libration. Haversack. Doric. Kilimanjaro. Thank you!"
Scott laughed, and clapped with the rest of the school. Albus Dumbledore truly was as genius as everyone said. At that moment, the table before him was suddenly filled with mountains of food. His jaw dropped as he took in the sudden wave of scents and sights. He began piling chicken legs, peas, broccoli, mashed potato, pumpkin, and lamb onto his plate, which was pure gold in colour. Meanwhile, the others at the table had begun to make small talk and introductions.
"Both my parents are non-magic," Edward Carmichael was saying. "They were pretty impressed when they found out that it was magic I was doing all this time."
"What about you, Belby?" Sophie Fawcett asked.
Belby had been in the process of swallowing a large clump of chicken at that moment, and suddenly began to choke in his haste to reply. The prefect called Robert pointed his wand swiftly at him and said, "Anapneo."
Belby stopped choking at once, though his eyes were watery. "Thanks. My whole family are wizards," he said, still wheezing slightly.
"And you, Croaker?"
Ethan looked startled at being addressed. "Er, my parents are wizards, but n-none of their parents ever were."
"So what does that make you?" Cho Chang asked curiously.
Ethan shrugged, looking slightly unnerved at the attention he was getting. Scott decided to take pity on him. "My parents are wizards, too. Dad's family are magical, though Mum's the only one in hers."
Marietta Edgecombe nodded knowledgably. "Yes, your father's Head of the Department of Mysteries."
Most of the group reacted to this piece of information. Out of the corner of his eye, Scott saw Haworth glance up.
"Ooooh," said Melinda Bobbin. "Do you know what goes on in there?"
"If I told you, then I'd have to kill you," he said, grinning crookedly.
Her eyes went wide, and the others all laughed.
"Ethan's dad works in the Department of Mysteries, too. And Mum's Delegate to the ICW – International Confederation of Wizards," he added, as Alex looked blank. "Means I end up overseas a lot."
"My Mum runs a chain of apothecaries," Bobbin said. "We've got one down Diagon Alley, in Hogsmeade, and Wiggen Lane. I think the Haworths have a shop, too?" She looked over at the pale boy, who had resolutely not participated in the conversation.
"Two shops," was all he said.
When the conversation lulled after this, Carmichael asked, "So I've been wondering, how exactly is Quidditch played? I get that it's on broomsticks and all, but what do you do up there?"
Scott and Chang both very eagerly spent the rest of dinner and then dessert explaining the minutiae of the game, including – at Carmichael's prompting – much of the information regarding the more esoteric rules. As they were finishing attempting to recall what the 700th Quidditch fowl was, Dumbledore stood up again, and the food left on the tables vanished.
"Now, just a few more words now that you have been properly fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices for you.
"First, I would like to introduce you to our newest additions to our staff. First: Professor Michael Foley, who shall be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."
At this, a tall man stood up and waved. He had unruly brown hair, and wore robes of dark purple, patterned with runes.
"Professor Foley will also be heading a series of excavations about the castle throughout the year, and I would ask that he and his team not be disturbed whilst they are working.
"Our second staff change this year will be the appointment of Professor Charity Burbage." A middle-aged woman stood up and waved. "Professor Burbage will be standing in as teacher of Muggle Studies whilst Quirinus Quirrell is away.
"I would also like to remind the student cohort, and inform first years, that the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden to all pupils.
"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that magic is not permitted for use in the corridors between classes.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And now, I hope you are not too tuckered out to sing the Hogwarts School Song!" he finished much more excitedly. Scott noticed that the other teachers, excluding Professor Foley, looked for a moment somewhat exasperated.
Dumbledore flicked his wand, and from its end emerged a long golden ribbon. It rose high above the tables and began twisting into the shapes of words.
"Everybody pick their favourite tune," cried Dumbledore, "and now: begin!"
They all bellowed, discordantly and chaotically:
"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."
Everyone finished the song at different times. Scott had decided to turn the song into a sort of hip-hop ballad, which had clashed terribly with the caterwauling that had come from Ethan. Alex's rendition had actually been quite pleasant to listen to, though slightly ruined by the quick tempo of Edgecombe's pop version. Haworth had muttered the lyrics quietly, though Scott could have sworn he'd heard some rhythm to the mumbling.
"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, eyes teary from mirth. "Truly a magic that little can hope to match, and by far the oldest. Now, bedtime. Hop on, now!"
The Ravenclaw first years followed Hilliard through the throngs of students, out the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. He led them through secret passages concealed behind tapestries, and a sliding wall panel. They walked through corridors of portraits, their subjects muttering to one another as the students passed by. They eventually found themselves on the sixth floor, by Scott's reckoning. They walked through a door that led into a tower; inside: a spiraling staircase, which provided no end of grief – worn down by the feast and trip across the castle as they were.
At the top of the staircase they met a dark oaken door, but with no sign of a handle or keyhole. Instead, affixed to the centre was a bronze knocker shaped like an eagle. Hilliard rapped the knocker against the door, and at once the eagle's beak opened. From it, a voice issued – soft, feminine, and melodic.
"A house with two occupants, sometimes one, rarely three. Break the walls, eat the boarders, then throw away me. What am I?"
"Hmm, what do you think?" Hilliard asked the group.
"Ask Scott, he's great with riddles," Ethan said. "He beat a sphinx!"
"A sphinx?!" Fawcett cried, looking awed.
"Why did you battle a sphinx?" asked Belby curiously.
"Er, family vault guardian," he replied distractedly. He considered the question that the knocker had asked. 'House' couldn't be literal, but what would that make the occupants? They must be a food of some sort, and his mind went to beans – the Every Flavour Beans from midday were still bouncing about in his mind. Bean pods were eaten just as often as not, so maybe peas? But peas wouldn't fit the numbers given. But a legume definitely fit the –
"A peanut?"
"Very astute," the eagle knocker said, and the door swung open.
Beyond was a massive, circular chamber. Graceful arched windows lined the walls, draped with silks of Ravenclaw blue and bronze. The room was very tall, with bluebell-flame sconces shaped like eagles punctuating the upper sections of four stone pillars, situated between which was a domed ceiling painted with the image of the night sky. The stars winked mysteriously, and the moon that was situated at the dome's nucleus shone like the real thing. The soft, thick midnight blue carpet echoed the ceiling's starry patterns.
Comfortable seats and couches were situated by bronze-legged tables. Towering bookcases lined free portions of wall, or were otherwise occupied by portraits of famous wizarding scholars and figures, who regarded the newcomers with interest. The sensation that permeated the room was much alike the suffused mystery of Ollivander's Wand shop – something ancient, invisible, and undeniably alluring.
A niche opposite the door held a tall statue, carved of polished marble. It was of a woman, who seemed to gaze at the group of first years with a quizzical half smile. She was utterly beautiful – free of blemish, unmarked by age – and all felt intimidated by her stare, which had a knowing quality to it. So perfect was its make; there almost seemed to be some life to the figure, though she did not move an inch. Upon her head was a circlet that Scott knew to be a marble reproduction of Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem. An inscription ran across it, reading: 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure'.
Beside the marble statue, within the niche, was a door, and it was here that the prefect directed them to go through.
"You'll find your dorms through there. A staircase will go to the boys' dorms, while another will go to the girls'. It's two to a room here in Ravenclaw, so pick someone you feel comfortable sharing a room with."
Alex turned to Scott. "Would I be able to share with you?"
Scott glanced at Ethan. "Er, would you be okay if –?"
Ethan nodded. "I don't mind, you'd probably try to get me into your early morning exercise routine if I was in with you."
Scott was silently relieved. Ethan was the worst snorer he'd ever heard, and he couldn't help pitying whoever it was who would share with him.
They wound their way up to the boys' dorms, Scott making sure that he found Dorm 12. Once they were inside, their trunks suddenly appeared beside their beds.
"Neat," Alex said. "And look," he poked his head back out the door, "the plaque's changed, too."
So it had. The plaque that read number twelve now also had 'Scott Carter' and 'Alexis Wroxton' written underneath.
"I'm going to go check to see what the others' have changed to," he said, heading off up the spiral stairs, leaving Scott alone in his new dorm room. As he approached his trunk, preparing to unpack quickly, he heard a sound that stopped him short.
It seemed to be music of some sort, though it sounded far too close to be anyone's Wizarding Wireless. He looked around the room for a moment before realising that the music was actually coming from his trunk. With a dawning sense of realisation, he listened to the song that emanated from the case.
"Don't you, forget about me
Don't, don't, don't, don't."
He tore the trunk lid open, digging around wildly until he found what he was looking for.
"Don't you, forget about me."
He stared at the walkman that he was holding in his hands. He had no idea what it was doing in his trunk, or why it was now playing music. Most confusing of all, however, was that it was playing music from somewhere that didn't seem to be the headphones that were still plugged into it.
"As you walk on by
Will you call my name?
As you walk on by
Will you call my name?
When you walk away."