Disclaimer: Still own the kids, still own the idea for this story, still own Chaos (you'll find out about it in The Chaos Tunnel, and more in Queen of Chaos when I get around to typing it), still don't own Harry Potter. Any questions?
The train ground to a halt, and we stepped out into a storm. Students were hunching over and running as quickly as they could toward wherever they were going, and the four of us had begun to follow some older students when we heard a voice calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"
We followed the voice until we were able to make out a huge figure standing by the lake. "That must be Hagrid, the gamekeeper," Zach shouted to us. He had to shout to be heard above the wind, rain, and thunder.
We got into little boats that I was sure would tip over before we got across the lake. Zach and I shared a boat, and Jim and Rachel shared another. Soon I was drenched to the bone, and shivering. One boy fell in, on purpose it seemed to me, and something pushed him back into the boat. Hagrid gave him his cloak. I toyed with the idea of falling in, also. Even if I didn't get a cloak for my efforts, I might have been warmer just because I'd have been out of the wind.
"Ever'body watch yer head!" Hagrid yelled, and Zach and I huddled down in the boat as far as we could as we passed into a dark tunnel. Then we were at the far shore, and we got out of the boats. Hagrid led us into the castle and left us.
"Look!" I pointed. "Ghosts!" At that moment, several people screamed, and one girl actually fainted. One of the ghosts, wearing a bright orange vest, threw water-bombs at us. I managed to catch one and threw it back at him, and it splattered all over him. He seemed delighted, and threw all the rest of the water-bombs at me.
A stern-looking witch with her graying hair pulled back in a severe bun appeared. "Peeves! Stop that!"
"Peeves was just having a bit of fun," the poltergeist protested. "They were already wet."
"I wonder how we're going to be Sorted," I whispered, suddenly frightened. I needn't have worried.
The stern witch brought out a stool and placed atop it a very old, worn-out hat. Then, to everyone's surprise, a wide rip opened near the brim, and the hat burst into song.
A thousand years or more ago,
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers—
Thus Hogwarts School began!
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive, they did divide
Their favorites from the throng;
Yet how to choose the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head,
The founders put some brains in me,
So I could choose instead.
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong;
I'll take a peek inside your mind,
And tell where you belong!
Yes, I memorized the whole thing. More evidence of my specialness, I suppose. I love poetry, and the song was really interesting.
"What's a Death Eater?" Rachel whispered. She must have been wondering since our conversation on the train, but hadn't worked up the nerve to ask until now. Or perhaps she had worked up the nerve on the boat trip across the lake, but hadn't gotten the chance to ask.
"Dark Lord supporter," I whispered back, feeling relieved. All I had to do was put the hat on my head, and it would tell me which House I was in.
"Call him Voldemort!" Jim hissed.
"Why?" As I said before, I normally called him Voldemort, but when speaking to others I called him the Dark Lord, for some reason. Death Eaters called him that, as did prophets, but no one else did.
"Just, I don't know. Don't you think it would be hilarious to stand in the middle of a crowd and yell, 'Voldemort!' at the top of your lungs?"
"You'd be thrown in an insane asylum," Zach informed Jim.
"Really?" Jim asked. "For something little like that? You should have been thrown in one long ago."
"Johnson, James," the stern witch called.
Jim stumbled towards the Sorting Hat and shoved it over his ears. After about a minute, the Sorting Hat roared, "GRYFFINDOR!" Darn. He wasn't in Ravenclaw. And I had a feeling that Rachel would be in Hufflepuff.
"Jones, Emerald."
I stumbled forward and shoved the hat down over my ears, not wanting to see the entire Hall staring at me. Ravenclaw. I want to be in Ravenclaw.
"RAVENCLAW!"
Relieved once more, I went to the Ravenclaw table, and listened for Rachel to be called.
"Smith, Rachel."
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Some time later, Zach was called.
"Taylor, Zachary."
"SLYTHERIN!"
Zach smirked at me as he joined the Slytherins. I made a face at him which involved sticking out my tongue and wiggling my fingers in my ears.
Food appeared on the tables, and we began to eat.
"Congratulations on getting into Ravenclaw," the sandy-haired boy sitting next to me said. "My name's Toby Stormwind, and you're Emerald Jones, right?"
"Yes," I replied, "but I prefer to be called Mera."
"Sure, Mera. You can call me Toby."
Toby seemed pretty nice, but there was a gleam to his eyes that I knew meant trouble. "So, Toby, are you planning to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?" I asked as we got up to leave the Great Hall and head for the Ravenclaw tower. Dumbledore had announced that just a minute ago, after everyone was finished eating.
"Sure," Toby grinned. "I'm too young, but that's never been a problem. I could get an older cousin to enter my name for me."
There was a traffic jam near the double-doors, and I left Toby so I could find out what was happening. There I found Jim and Zach, glaring at each other while being held apart by several other students. I could tell Zach's heart wasn't really in the glare; when he really glares, I swear that Voldemort would back up in fear.
"What's going on here?" I demanded.
"He's in Slytherin!" Jim spat, as if that were reason enough to get into a fight. For Jim, maybe it was.
The people holding Zach had loosened their grip, since it seemed Zach wasn't going to go for Jim's throat.
"Naughty boy. Slytherin is bad." I gave Zach a light tap on the head with my now sopping wet Spanish Dictionary.
"Got to go. See you tomorrow." Zach followed the other Slytherins out of the Great Hall.
Jim glared furiously after him. "What's gotten into him? I thought he was nice!"
"He's nice," I said. "He's just ambitious."
Jim stormed off.
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