"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall courteously greeted. "The start-of-term 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 your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."
Hermione was the only girl of her age who could be mesmerized by an entrance hall's medieval décor all the while taking in the words of an introductory welcome. It wasn't that Hermione was disinterested by Professor McGonagall's words, she'd just already become familiar with the history of the four Houses and the process of the Sorting Ceremony, in addition discovered a considerable amount of facts and notes regarding Hogwarts she guaranteed no other first-year had thought to seek. She hadn't been conscious of McGonagall's brief exit until she heard Harry speaking to―what was his name again?―Ron.
"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" he asked.
"Some sort of test, I think," Ron replied. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was just joking."
Hermione was befuddled at how stiff Harry's person went at Weasley's answer. He must not have been an enthusiast of academics. She shuffled past one or two first-years to playfully poke his shoulder, and flashed him an airy smile once she had his attention.
"I promise you, Potter, the Sorting Ceremony is no form of a written test," Hermione assured. "The founders just didn't have the vision, sadly…"
As quickly as it came, the apprehension in Harry's emerald peepers departed, a chuckle escaping the consoled boy's lips. Hermione was clueless as to where it originated, but there was something about the Potter-boy that made her want to keep his mind clear of any worry or inaccuracies that would send him into pre-semester hysterics. It would be nice to keep a fellow new-to-wizardry schoolmate company, maybe exchange first-experience observations, even!
"For the sake of wonder, I'll keep the official process of the Sorting Ceremony a secret, but it is painless," she said. "So no need to be fearful."
"Well that's a relief! I remember you. Hermione, right? You know a lot about the school?"
She nodded. "I practically have Hogwarts: A History memorized word-for-word. Nothing too impressive, though. You should take a look yourself and see what keeps your interest."
"Perhaps I shall," he enthusiastically replied.
"I'll be sure to lend you a copy after the start of term," she said. "I've read it quite a number times, so keep it as long you'd like."
"Can I really? That's very nice of you…"
"Think nothing of it," she replied. "I plan to become an influential scholar after I've left Hogwarts. Many consider the wand or the sword to be the mightiest weapon, but, in my steadfast belief, the mind itself can be the most lethal weapon, dependent of the tactfulness of the wizard who possesses it. And, so long as a library's resources remains growing, that power is perpetual."
Ron's orange eyebrow twitched at the back of Harry's head. Being so casually excluded did not sit well with him, especially while his newfound friendship was being undermined by a particular frizzy-haired hindrance by the name of Hermione Granger.
"How's 'bout you, Ron?" Harry thoughtfully spoke.
Ron shook himself from his simmering stupor. "What? What, now?"
Harry repeated his unheard question. "What do you plan on doing once you're out of Hogwarts?"
Even Hermione was listening politely.
"Well…I've never really given much thought to―"
The collective shrieks that sounded from the group silenced him. At least twenty spectral figures had streamed through the back wall. Hermione laughed over the screams at Harry jumping nearly a foot in the air. Some of the ghosts observed or conversed with the newcomers to Hogwarts.
"New students!" exclaimed a ghost who Hermione recognized as the Fat Friar. "About to be Sorted, I suppose? Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know."
Professor McGonagall returned shortly and sharply commanded the group to form a line before leading them through the double doors into the spacious Great Hall. Its structure was as surreal as Hogwarts: A History had described: candles floating in midair over four long tables, and a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Hermione caught Harry's enchanted awe as he stared, enthralled, up at the ceiling.
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," she wondrously whispered to him. "Looks as though there's no ceiling there at all, doesn't it?"
Harry nodded, still captivated by the sight. "It's beautiful…"
From the dreamy tone in Harry's response, Hermione could tell that he was referring to Hogwarts as whole and not just the bewitched ceiling. And she was confident in her guess because, while she had studied all there was to know of her future alma mater, metaphorical butterflies were fluttering furiously in her gut. Hogwarts distributed more splendorous anticipation in Hermione than any silly amusement park ever had.
The shuffling group was halted at the top of the hall, where there was another table in which the teachers were seated. Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool before the first-years. On the stool was a pointed wizard's hat, patched, frayed, and extremely dirty.
At the risk of sounding like a complete duffer, Harry whispered to Hermione, "Do we have to try to pull a rabbit out of that hat?"
Mercifully, the Sorting Hat's singing prematurely chased away the fit of laughter that Harry's question had summoned from her. Following the applause at the song's conclusion, Ron furiously whispered to Harry, "So we've just got to try on the hat! I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Who Fred was, Hermione didn't ponder. She was inwardly occupied devising the perfect system that would ensure her the favor of her teachers. If she wanted to be the prodigy that she envisioned herself as, she would cram as much information into her frizzy head as accessible. With convincing coaxing, she may've been able to see that a few Prefects would turn a blind eye to allow her more time in the library and vouch for her should she be discovered. It was all in the sake of knowledge, so what was a little duplicity? At that moment, Hermione was certain that Ravenclaw was the House she would get; the gears in her head were already turning as she plotted every beneficial maneuver that would result in accumulated resources.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
When Hermione shook herself back into reality, Justin Flinch-Fletchley was hurrying with bare-faced glee to the Hufflepuffs' table. Had the Sorting already begun? Had she been so invested in the designing of her future here that her senses retreated to her mind's center?
"Granger, Hermione!"
She flashed Harry a confident smile before sprinting up to the stool and eagerly sitting upon it. McGonagall gingerly lowered the hat onto Hermione's cranium. "Ah…This mind is chock-full of cleverness, and a diligent desire to achieve as much knowledge as possible…a mind crawling with the makings of a promising scholar…"
Hermione confidently smirked under the pondering hat.
"But," he continued, "the advantages that come with excessive knowledge is your prime motive for wanting to utilize such. Your drive to achieve your scholastic goals practically overshadows the goals themselves! I also sense a great deal of cunning amongst this ambitious brain…oh, yes."
Hermione was actually surprised to learn of the traits the Sorting Hat was presenting to her and the other students; though she supposed that, subconsciously, she had always had these characteristics stored in her mind. She wasn't objecting to them being there, so the Sorting Hat must have been accurate…
"Oh, it's obvious now where you belong, my dear," the Sorting Hat purred. "You are a young girl of academic clarity, and now you become a House rarity…"
Hermione was growing quite bemused by the hat's cryptic words. What did he mean by rarity? But her befuddlement would soon be engulfed by blatant shock at the name she would hear.
Its sort decided, the hat vigorously bellowed, "SLYTHERIN!"