Disclaimer: I've used lines from the book (again); it won't happen very often after this chapter, especially since I don't own Harry Potter & I don't want to make the real owner (one of the greatest authors—right up there with Virgil and Catullus) mad at me!
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, put me on their favorites list, and/or put me on their author alert list.
This chapter is dedicated to Kage Mirai, read her stories!
The door was opened immediately by a tall black-haired witch in emerald-green robes. She had a stern face, but when Harry looked at her closely he noticed that her eyes were smiling.
"I got 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 big…not as big as the one in the Black Manor…but big all the same.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of conversation beyond the doorway to the right. Professor McGonagall ushered them into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering around 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 (she seemed to smile briefly), 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 your 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 blackened face (as a result of the blasting hex Harry had used—real fire!).
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber. Harry walked over to Neville and unfastened his cloak. When Neville tried to grab the cloak back, Harry admonished him, "Hold on a second." He swept the cloak over the boy's shoulders and fastened it on his collar. "There, now you look respectable."
Neville blushed and whispered, "thank you," before looking down.
Harry smiled and walked back to Draco.
"You seem to make friends with all the misfits."
Harry's smile faded. He turned to Draco. "You will leave him alone, do you understand?"
"Why?"
"Because," Harry hissed, "we both owe him a blood debt that we will never be able to pay! If not friendship, we at least owe him respect!"
"What do you mean? What Blood debt?"
"Bellatrix! Or have you forgotten the shame of our families!"
"She got sent to Azkaban, but I don't see what that has to do with Longbottom."
Harry glared, his eyes hard. When he spoke, his voice was colder than an artic wind in January, "Ask your mother; until then, He is not to be touched!"
Draco nodded quickly, scared, at the boy in front of him. He looked around and saw the other first years looking on. He definitely had to find out what had made his cousin blow up in front of a crowd.
"We are ready for you."
The first years made there way into the Great Hall. Harry found himself staring at the ceiling. He had, of course, read about it, but it was amazing nonetheless.
They approached the High table and Professor McGonagall's voice rang out: "When I call out your name, come over here, place the Sorting Hat on your head, and then you will be sorted into your house." She stepped aside so they could see the hat….suddenly it's brim opened and a voice sang out:
"Oh, you may not think I'm Pretty…"
And then the room broke into applause, and Harry realized that he had missed the song….He had been talking quietly with Oculi.
"Abbot, Hannah."
A pink-faced girl with blond pigtails ran up to the stool and took the sorting hat; she sat down and jammed it on her head so that it covered her eyes. A moment and then,
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
There was an assortment of claps and cheers as she joined their table.
"Black, Harold."
As Harry walked slowly up the steps he could here the little whispers spreading like wisps of flame.
"The Harold Black?"
"Is it really him?"
Harry grabbed the hat and eased it on his head.
"Hmmm," said a tiny voice in his ear. "Interesting: a Black who thinks like an Evans. Your grandmother did a good job raising you boy."
"I'll tell her you said so," Harry muttered softly.
"See that you do. Now, where to put you? You would do well in Ravenclaw—very smart. Or Hufflepuff—loyal to your family. Even Gryffindor to an extent, though I do not think you are suited for that house."
"Why?"
The hat chuckled, "Because Dumbledore told me to put you in there of course! Humph! Foolish man thinks his position as headmaster gives him a right to interfere with a Sorting. Stupid Gryffindor."
"Weren't you Gryffindor's Hat?"
"He was stupid, too! Couldn't keep his ugly nose out of people's business. He was always trying to get me to give up the student's secrets. I tell you, it's a good thing that Salazar thought to give me free will; otherwise, I might be divulging your secrets."
"I thank you for you silence."
"Not a problem—any thing to frustrate Dumbledore, another man with a funny looking nose!"
"It must be horrible sharing an office with him."
"You have no idea! And his bird! Ugh, disgusting creature. Why, just last week I was thinking up the last verse for my song and the flaming bird comes up and sh-."
"Perhaps I could visit you? Knowing Dumbledore, I'll be in there often enough, with his trying to convert me and all."
"I would like that very much, Lord Black; I'll see you in SLYTHERIN!"
Harry took off the hat and made his way through the silent great hall to the Slytherin table. He sat down next to the ghost he recognized as the Bloody-Baron, nodding respectfully. Then, he waited for the next person to be sorted.
McGonagall, who had been staring at him in shock, shook herself and called the next person (Bones, Susan).
Harry spaced out until Neville Longbottom was called. The hat seemed to take ages to decide before putting him in HUFFLEPUFF! (A/N: I have my reasons.) Neville hopped off the stool (forgetting to take off the hat) and ran to the Hufflepuff table; half way there he ran back and gave the hat to MacDougal, Morag (who was sorted into Slytherin).
When Draco went up the hat had barely to touch his head when SLYTHERIN! rang through the hall.
Weasley (Curse the name!) made it into GRYFFINDOR! (No surprise).
And finally, with Zabini, Blaise (Slytherin), the Sorting ended. McGonagall rolled up her scroll, picked up the hat, and made her way out of the room. Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat, "Before the feast there are a few words I'd like to say, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you—that is all"
Draco looked at the man uncertainly and whispered to Harry "Is he a bit, mad?"
"Yes."
Draco nodded and they proceeded to dig into the feast.
When the food finally disappeared, Dumbledore gave a warning speech and Harry's suspicions about the package were confirmed; it was at Hogwarts.
And then a prefect shouted for the first years to follow him. He led them to a stone wall down in the dungeons.
"The password is 'Gold is Life'; don't forget it."
Inside, Harry and the others gazed around a luxurious room done in subtle variations of silver and green.
The Prefect, Bartleby Reginald, turned and faced the crowd of first years. "Welcome to Slytherin house. Our house is guided by one strict doctrine: Power is everything, and as first years you have no Power." He paused for effect. "As time passes, you will rise through the power structure. If you do not, you will be shunned. Do you understand?"
The first years nodded.
"Good now. The Parkinson room is through that door, the Goyle room is there, Crabbe is next to it, Nott is behind the portrait of Samuel Nott—you'll have to think up a password, Zabini is through there," he said, pointing. "Malfoy is behind the statue of Mortimer Malfoy, MacDougal is up the staircase and to the right." He looked at Harry. "There is no Black room, so you'll have to…"
Harry, making his way toward the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, cut him off: "I am the last descendant of the Evans line, their rooms are here."
The Prefect stood slack-jawed for a moment before nodding. "Very well, good night."
Harry bowed before the painting. "My lord," he hissed quietly, "I ask acceptance into my rooms."
"My heir is always welcome," came the reply and the painting swung to the side. Harry, suddenly tired, gently picked up Oculi and set her down on his pillow. Then, after undressing, he fell onto his bed, asleep before his body hit the mattress.