Chapter 5 – Houses and Homes

The huge, gleaming red Hogwarts Express train puttered into Hogsmeade Station without fuss, and after squeezing through the improbably-full corridor on the train, Harry emerged from the mass of students onto the platform at Hogsmeade holding his trunk and Agrippa's cage. Once outside he wondered what to do next. He watched as Ernie and Tracey put their things down on the platform, and then did the same. It felt strange to just leave his things unattended, but it was what everyone else was doing.

The other years peeled off in one direction along a lantern-lit cobblestone road that skirted the edge of the village chatting loudly, and the first years milled about on the now deserted platform amidst an ocean of luggage, cats, owls, and at least one toad.

"Firs' years! Firs' years! Leave yer things on the platform and follow me! 'm Hagrid, the groundskeeper," called out an absurdly tall and wide man with a large beard. He stopped suddenly and held something aloft. "Whose toad is this?"

Harry left his trunk and Agrippa next to Tracey's luggage—and her cat, which was sitting patiently atop her trunk—and followed the large man with the rest of the first years. Harry and his new friends eventually found their way along the winding and dimly-lit path to the shore of what appeared to be a very large and very deep lake. Twenty or so little boats waited in a clusters along a rickety and ancient-looking wooden pier.

"Four to a boat," said the giant man, "quickly now. Everyone'll be waitin' for yeh so the Sorting can start."

Ernie strode forward and claimed a boat, then waved Harry and the girls over to it. To his surprise, Harry found it incredibly easy to step into the boat even though it bobbed on the surface of the water, and it didn't even topple when the next boat along the pier crashed into it and Millicent stumbled in.

The small fleet of boats set off a few moments later, gliding through the calm lake waters silent but for the low and excited murmur of Hogwarts's newest pupils.

"There's meant to be a giant squid living in the lake," said Millicent. She leaned over the edge of the boat to look into the water. "It's supposed to be hundreds of years old. Reckon we'll see it?"

Harry peered over the side of the boat at the water and frowned. He couldn't see anything, but it was getting dark and the water seemed murky.

"Well, if we do I hope it's friendly," he said.

"Dad said when he was a first year, someone fell in and the squid scooped them out!" said Ernie. "So it must be friendly!"

"Nan told me the same thing," said Tracey, "so I think it's just a story."

A small argument erupted over whether or not such an event had ever happened involving a student and the squid, which only stopped when Hagrid called out to get the students' attention.

"Now, just up 'ere yeh'll be seein' the castle fer the first time," he said. "Reckon you might be wantin' ter take a look."

Harry craned his neck to look out across the lake. A vast and formidable stone castle sporting numerous wings and towers on top of towers sat atop a small hill at the edge of the lake, with an expanse of forest creeping around the hill and the shoreline. A thousand windows – big and small, tall and short, a variety of different shapes – shone soft, flickering light into the night sky.

"It's so pretty!" said Tracey.

Harry nodded in agreement. Stonewall High had been a series of squat concrete blocks with slightly worn out facilities filled with students in dreary grey uniforms. Dudley had teased him for a couple of weeks about how much nicer Smeltings would be than Stonewall High, but if he'd only realised where Harry would end up spending the rest of his schooling he'd have shut right up, or asked to go himself. Hogwarts outclassed Smeltings in every category so far, at least as far as Harry was concerned, and he would get to learn magic.

"It's not fully the original tenth century castle, of course," said Ernie. "Did you know my great—"

"Yeah, brilliant," said Millicent. "Nobody cares. Look! We're nearly there," she said, and pointed at the covered stone harbour building a short distance away. Already the first few boats had docked, and the students inside stood around waiting for the others to arrive. When the last of the boats had docked and their students waited safely on dry land, Hagrid waved the new students onwards and up a winding set of stone stairs.

Eventually the big group of children and the groundskeeper entered the castle proper and emerged into the grand Entrance Hall where they were met by a tall, stern-looking witch wearing a stiff pointed hat and austere robes.

"Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid. "All 'ere, no accidents."

"Thank you, Hagrid," said the woman in soft Scottish accent. "Welcome, students, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In just a short while you will be Sorted into your new Houses which will, over the course of your stay here, be something like a family at school. You will eat with your House, sleep in your House, and take classes with your House. There are four Houses, each with a long and illustrious history. Every House has produced and will continue to produce many fine witches and wizards, in whose number I am sure at least some of you will one day be counted. I am Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House and Mistress of Transfiguration here at Hogwarts. You are to wait quietly while I go and inform the rest of the school that you have arrived, and then you will all form an orderly line to enter the Great Hall for the Sorting. When you are inside remain quiet until I call out your name, and then step forward to sit on the stool and put on the Hat to get Sorted."

The stern witch didn't wait for any kind of reply and simply left the crowd of nervous children to wait. Many of the children seemed confused at the mention of a hat, whilst others were taking every opportunity to say 'I told you so' to their sceptical friends.

"Well, chaps, this is it," said Ernie. "Nothing to do now but wait!"

"We get Sorted in front of the whole school?" asked Harry, who hadn't considered that everyone would be watching him.

"I hope I don't take really long," Tracey said. "Nan said some people take ages and ages with the Hat, and nobody can eat until everyone's been Sorted, and there are lots of us waiting…"

Harry opened his mouth to agree, but instead ended up gawping as a host of shimmering, ethereal people floated through the wall and across the Entrance Hall. Several other students let out little screams at the sight of the ghostly procession.

"Something has to be done about Peeves," said one of the ghosts. "It just can't carry on—oh! Hello there!" he said.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" said another, a portly man in ghostly robes.

Several of the other ghosts made greetings or comments to the gathered students but they soon floated off into the Great Hall, and Professor McGonagall returned to usher the nervous students into the Great Hall.

On a solitary and quite out-of-place stool near the grand doors from the Entrance Hall sat a tattered and ancient hat. Four long tables took up most of the gargantuan hall, and a couple of hundred black-robed students sat at each of them talking and shouting loudly. On a raised dais the professors and an assortment of other staff sat at another long table overlooking the hall.

When the last of the first years had been guided into the hall and the vast doors closed, the hall grew silent, and the Hat opened its rim and began to sing. Harry tuned out most of the song as he started to think about where the Hat would send him – if it didn't send him packing back home.

"You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;"

Harry didn't feel especially brave or chivalrous, but his parents had both been in Gryffindor, and from what he had heard, families often Sorted in the same way. He wondered if it worked that way when a person grew up without their magical relatives, since he doubted any of the Dursleys would have gone to Gryffindor if they'd had the opportunity. Vernon was easily angered, but that wasn't the same thing as being brave. Harry supposed that lots of people might be expecting him to go to Gryffindor just because he was the 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

"You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;"

Harry felt more than familiar with the concept of toil, although he was unsure whether he wanted to go to a House that seemed to be based on patient toiling. He did know one other person who wanted to go to Hufflepuff in Ernie, who seemed friendly enough if a little pompous, so he supposed it wouldn't be too bad to go there—and it did seem like a good, friendly place. That Diggory bloke from Madam Malkin's had been a Hufflepuff, too, and he seemed like a pleasant sort. Harry supposed if the Hat really wanted him to go there, and Ernie went there too, it wouldn't be the worst House to get put in.

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;"

Listening to the Hat's song, Harry didn't think he wanted to go to Ravenclaw, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself, even if the Hat offered it to him. He knew he wasn't stupid by any stretch of the word; he usually managed to do better than a lot of his class at school, and always managed to do better than Dudley, but he'd never been the best at anything really. Ravenclaw sounded to Harry as if it were intended for people much smarter than him, or at the very least more interested in schoolwork, like that Hermione Granger girl had seemed to be. Even if he did get in, would it turn out to be a House full of Grangers?

Not for me, Harry decided.

"Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends."

Harry had been told all sorts of famous and influential people had been in Slytherin at school, although most of them were just names that meant nothing to him. That Diggory boy in the robe shop had said Slytherin was about ambition. Harry had never been especially ambitious, but he'd always known that if he wanted to get on in life, he'd have to do something about it himself. Even Petunia had thought it important to have lofty goals, and although Harry thought that was because she tended towards a bit of snobbery and didn't want him working behind the tills in Woolworths, she wasn't wrong.

Even knowing he had literal mounds of gold sat in a vault under London didn't mean he wanted to sit around on his arse all day, either. He wanted to do something, and although he knew next to nothing about wizarding jobs, Harry wanted that something to be interesting.

But is that an ambition? Harry wondered. This Sorting business is a bit more complicated than I'd thought. Harry hadn't really expected putting on a Hat to have involved quite so much existential navel-gazing.

The Hat sang the last few lines of its song and the Great Hall erupted into a chorus of claps and cheers which died down at a sharp gesture from Professor McGonagall. The stern and officious witch called out the name of the first student to be Sorted, 'Abbot, Hannah', who made her way to the stool and put the Hat on her head. It sat there for several seconds until it called out loudly, "HUFFLEPUFF!" and the assembled students, most notably those at the Hufflepuff table, clapped. Two students at one of the tables kept on clapping long after the rest of the students had finished, earning them an admonition from Professor McGonagall. When they had finally stopped, Professor McGonagall called up the next student to be Sorted.

Harry watched intently as each new student got Sorted into their House and the A names changed into B names. 'Boot, Terence' went to Ravenclaw after a tense four-and-half minutes under the Hat and 'Brown, Lavender' sat underneath the Hat trembling as Harry heard Millicent crack her knuckles and take a deep breath.

"It's me soon," she whispered. "See you all tomorrow, if we go different places."

"Good luck," said Harry quietly.

"You'll be fine," said Ernie. "You'll get Slytherin, no need to worry."

"See you at the Slytherin table!" said Tracey.

"Bulstrode, Millicent," called out Professor McGonagall, and the large young girl walked up to the stool and stuffed the Hat onto her head roughly, where it sat silently for at least two and a half minutes. From under the rim of the Hat Harry could just about make out Millicent's increasingly deep frown. Eventually the Hat shouted out "SLYTHERIN!" and Millicent quickly got up and shoved the Hat back onto its stool roughly before making her way to the Slytherin table amidst a chorus of claps.

"Ooh, well done, Millie!" said Tracey from beside Harry. "Now I'll have to get in!"

The throng of first years gathered at the back of the Hall near the doors grew smaller as each new student went to their new House until at last Professor McGonagall called out 'Davis, Tracey' and Tracey left to sit on the stool. Just before putting the Hat on she gave a big thumbs up to Harry and Ernie and then placed the Hat onto her head. Moments later, and almost as soon as the Hat reached her head, it shouted out "SLYTHERIN!" and Tracey joined Millicent at the Slytherin table to a chorus of claps.

'Granger, Hermione' ended up going to Gryffindor, which surprised Harry although he supposed the Hat knew what it was doing, since it had been doing it for a thousand years at least. Still, judging by their altercation on train, Harry would have put Granger in Ravenclaw.

More surprising was 'Longbottom, Neville' also going to Gryffindor after an admittedly extremely lengthy spell under the Hat, since when Harry had met him, the poor boy hadn't said a thing and had spent the entire time staring at the compartment floor. Neville himself appeared just as confused and shocked at the Hat's proclamation as Harry, and even walked away from the stool with the Hat still on his head until Professor McGonagall snatched it from him and called out for the next student.

When it reached Ernie's turn to be Sorted he gave Harry a brief handshake before leaving him with the dwindling crowd to sit on the stool, and before the Hat even touched his head it shouted out "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The House started to cheer and clap as Ernie joined them at their table, followed by a more muted celebration from the other three Houses. Harry supposed Hufflepuff wouldn't be too bad to join—Vernon always harped on about the value of hard work, so perhaps Harry could give it a go—and as Ernie had gone there he would have a friend already.

As 'Malfoy, Draco' walked up to the stool to be Sorted, Harry took another look at the gathered students and realised that the Sorting was about half-way done, and that it would soon be his turn under the Hat. Several more students were Sorted after that in rapid succession, although 'Nott, Theodore' took nearly three minutes, until eventually Professor McGonagall called out 'Parkinson, Pansy' and Harry realised it would be his turn very soon—maybe even next. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

Parkinson went to Slytherin after about a minute or so sat underneath the Sorting Hat, and was followed by 'Perks, Sally-Anne', who went to Gryffindor. Then at last came 'Potter, Harry', and at once students all over the Great Hall began talking in hurried whispers.

Harry wished they hadn't, because it was hard enough walking up to the Hat in front of the whole school to begin with. And he could even hear what some of them were saying.

"She can't mean—"

"Not the Harry Potter?"

"Bit short, isn't he?"

Harry took a deep breath and started to walk towards the stool. He didn't want to trip or fall, not when he could feel every eye in the room staring at him, and he suddenly felt terrified that he had put on his robes incorrectly, but when he placed the Hat onto his head he was glad to realise it covered just enough of his eyes that he couldn't see the sea of students as they talked about him loudly.

Curious, curious, said a voice right into his head. It's all here in your head, don't you worry about that! Now, what to do with you? What to do indeed?

Hello, thought Harry.

Yes, yes, said the Hat. Oh, they would have argued over you. But who would have won? You've got a good head on your shoulders, that's true, and there is a lot Ravenclaw could teach you! But I think you would never truly feel you belonged there, and I think Rowena would have realised that… So! Not Ravenclaw, then.

Right, thought Harry, unsure exactly how he was supposed to respond, although he had the feeling that the Hat needed no prompting or help in looking around his head, and would do as it pleased whether or not Harry spoke to it. Still, it did feel odd—impolite, even—not to have any response at all. At least it agreed with him that Ravenclaw wasn't for him.

Loyal? Oh, my, yes. A good sense of fairness, too, said the Hat. It went silent for a little while and Harry could almost feel it rustling around his mind. Tell me, lad, how do you feel about Hufflepuff? Out with it now—ah, yes, I see. Well, you can go there if you like, but it won't be the best fit for you. Oh, you certainly have the right stuff, no doubt about that, but what would you gain?

Harry felt like that Hat had made good points so far, since he wouldn't have chosen Ravenclaw if offered a choice, although he did wonder what the Hat meant about Hufflepuff.

It's just not what I think would be best in your case, though I daresay dear Helga would have been thrilled to take you, clarified the Hat, leaving Harry no better informed than before. Now, there's more than enough bravery to fill a battlefield, I should think, continued the Hat. Certainly I can see courage the like of which I have not seen in an age! You would do well in Gryffindor, yes, like your parents, and like your father's father… But you could do better than well, and you know it, don't you? There's a thirst to prove yourself worthy, yes? A desire to be as great as people think you might be, to match and even exceed expectations? Well, Slytherin would help you in that. You could be great indeed. And—well, that is curious now, isn't it? Just like your mother... Well, lad. There is much that old Salazar would have taught you, of that I am certain, your particular talent notwithstanding.

Until then the idea of being Sorted into a House had been almost an entirely abstract thing to Harry, but presented with two possible options by the Hat, he found it more difficult than ever to choose. His parents had gone to Gryffindor; would they have expected him to go there too? Would it honour their memories, their sacrifice, to follow them into Gryffindor? Had that been what they wanted? Would everyone watching in the Hall—students and teachers and even the ghosts—expect him to go to Gryffindor?

Did it even matter what anyone else expected? Harry gripped the edge of the stool tightly. Harry thought his parents would understand if he simply let the Hat do its job, and decide where he fit best.

Yes, it had better be—

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the Hat, and a wave of overly loud whispers went out across the Hall as students reacted to Harry's Sorting in and amongst their groups. After only a few moments the Slytherin table burst into claps and cheers and, Harry thought, even some whistles—although some of its members looked distinctly unimpressed with Harry's Sorting. The claps and cheers were followed by the other tables in a much more muted fashion. Harry quickly took off the Hat and set it down on the stool for the next person before making his way to the Slytherin table, where he sat down at the end of the table in a space carved out for him between Tracey and a thin and pointy-faced boy Harry thought might have been 'Nott, Theodore', who nodded to him.

"I knew you'd be a Slytherin," said Tracey excitedly, "I could just tell!"

"Good to see you here, Potter, but we can chat after the Sorting is done!" said an older girl on the opposite side of the table. "Gemma Farley – I'm a prefect."

Harry just nodded along and watched the rest of the Sorting, clapping along with everyone else when the Hat announced its choices, but with a little bit more gusto every time a student came to Slytherin. After about ten minutes the final student to be Sorted, 'Zabini, Blaise', went to Slytherin and sat at the very end of the table next to 'Wash, Oliver', and Professor Dumbledore stood up after the clapping had died down.

"Ah, how wonderful it is to be back here again for the start of a new school year," he said. "Congratulations to all our new first years and may you all settle in to your new Houses. Now, I am quite sure that you are all very hungry and can't wait to enjoy the no doubt spectacular feast that has been prepared for us this evening. So I shall say only a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

The old wizard sat down and immediately mountains of piping hot food appeared on the table in front of Harry, from whole roasted chickens to mounds of potatoes and parsnips and carrots, to soups and still-warm freshly baked bread buns and everything in between.

"Harry, pass the potatoes would you?" Tracey said. "No, the roasts, thank you," she said.

Harry obliged and took some for himself, then offered them to the boy sat next to him.

"I'm Harry," he said. "Potatoes?"

"Theodore Nott," said the boy. "Yes, please." He held up a jug. "Juice?" he asked, and Harry nodded and let the other boy fill his goblet up with the orange liquid.

"What kind of juice is it?" he asked. Despite the colour, it didn't look like orange juice.

"I'm Draco," said the blond boy sat next to Theodore, interrupting Theodore's reply. "Draco Malfoy," he added as if it were of the utmost importance. "No need to introduce yourself of course, we all know who you are, but it is good to see you here with the right sort. Can you imagine if you'd gone to Hufflepuff? I mean, really."

"Er, right, hello," said Harry. He didn't think it would have been so bad to go to Hufflepuff, but he said nothing. "Good to meet you both."

"And I'm Tracey," said Tracey, "and this is Millie! So where's everybody from? I'm from Pwllnewin, it's in Powys, you know, Wales."

"I'm from Hogsmeade," said Millicent. "We lived in Glasgow for a while though but Mum didn't like it. Too Muggle, she said."

"Wiltshire," supplied Draco. "Just outside Nimlet's Head. Did you know my father owns the village? It's been in our family for generations."

"He doesn't own the whole village," said Theodore. "I live near Draco—we knew each other before Hogwarts."

"Vince and Greg – Crabbe and Goyle – they live in the village," continued Draco as he gestured to two large but squat boys on the opposite side of the table who were currently shovelling food into their mouths at an almost superhuman rate. "Not that they'll bother to talk what with all the food."

"I live in Surrey," said Harry as he attempted not to spill the peas everywhere. "It's just a normal Muggle town, not very interesting, not like erm, Poothnewin or Nimlet's Herd—"

"Does your family have a—oh, what's it called? A computation engine?" asked Theodore, interrupting.

"My cousin Dudley has a computer, I used it sometimes for school. It's not that good really, you can't do that much with it…" Harry said, slightly confused.

"Oh," said Theodore. "That's disappointing, I'd heard Muggles could use them to fly to the moon."

Harry laughed, and Theodore looked disappointed.

"I learned about it in Muggle Studies," said Gemma Farley. "They did use computers to go there, but that's not what most Muggles use computers for. The Muggles used them to build something that could go to the moon, or something like that—they made something like a broom but bigger and made of metal. Funny, right?"

"Is that true?" demanded Draco of Harry, and when Harry told him it was, he immediately started talking to a girl opposite him. "Pansy, Pansy—you'll never guess what Potter just told me; Muggles have giant metal brooms… No, not airy-plains or helly-copters, it's different…"

"That's not really what it's like," said Harry, but Theodore just shook his head.

"I wouldn't bother. He gets like that. I'd just leave it be."

"Were you hoping for Slytherin or was it a surprise?" asked Harry in between bites of his parsnips.

Theodore shrugged.

"My dad was in Slytherin… and his dad. Most Notts were since, well, there were Notts. I wouldn't have minded Ravenclaw; the Hat did offer." Theodore fidgeted with his cutlery and went silent for a few moments until he realised he was supposed to ask something back. "What about you?"

"I thought about all the Houses… It was between Slytherin and Gryffindor in the end. My parents were both Gryffindors, and the Hat said I could do well there," said Harry. "But… it said I could do better here."

"I wanted Slytherin all along," said Tracey. "Nan was in Slytherin, but she's the only one, so it was still a bit unexpected!"

"I didn't recognise your name," said Theodore. "You're halfblood? Who's your nan's family?"

"Oh, she doesn't have one. Well, not like that, anyway; she's a muggleborn. All my grandparents are!" said Tracey proudly.

"You know, Potter," said Gemma Farley quickly after a brief glance towards both Theodore and Tracey, "I will admit I thought you were going right to Gryffindor. I mean, it seems obvious doesn't it? Me, though? I was a pack of nerves when I came here; I asked the Hat for Hufflepuff, convinced it was the only place I'd get in! Then it sent me here and that was that. But now you've come here, everyone's going to be watching to see what happens next. We've won the House Cup seven years in a row, so no pressure!"

"What's the House Cup?" asked Harry.

"It's a competition between the Houses," explained Gemma. "Teachers give out House points for good work, answers in class, if you go to groups like Charms Club and do projects and stuff like that, but they can take them away too. And there's the Quidditch Cup where our House team has dominated since Charlie Weasley – he was in Gryffindor – left a few years ago, and all the points go towards the House Cup as well, so we've just been winning it every year. The other Houses hate that we're winning so much, so all you firsties need to get your heads down and keep us in the lead, not just Potter here!"

Harry glanced up at the teachers' table where a couple of dozen witches and wizards sat eating their meals and chatting amongst themselves. He recognised Professor Flitwick, who had sat next to Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore sat at the very middle of the table on a throne-like chair, and Harry recognised Hagrid who towered over everyone, but every other member of staff was completely unknown to him. His gaze lingered over a professor wearing a turban and felt a pain in his scar so sharp he nearly jumped out of his seat.

"What's wrong?" asked Tracey.

"Nothing, a headache I think. It's a bit loud in here, that's all," said Harry, although noise had never given him trouble like that before. He looked up at the High Table again. "Who's that professor with the turban?"

"Him? He's the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Quirrell," said Gemma. "There's only one proper teacher this year; apparently, Dumbledore couldn't find anyone else to teach it after the other two quit last year. One apprentice stayed on as Professor Quirrell's, but he doesn't look too happy about it… I think he took another one this year as well. Quirrell used to teach Muggle Studies a few years ago, see, so people still don't really rate him as the Defence Professor. Rumour has it Snape wanted the job, but I wouldn't mention it around him if I were you."

"Which one is Snape?" asked Tracey.

"The one next to Quirrell," said Theodore quietly. "He knows my dad. He came to my m—I saw him at my house once." He started to fidget again.

"He's okay," said Gemma, "teaches Potions, but you don't want him for first year. His apprentice is nice and helpful but Snape—well, let's say he does better with NEWT students. He's the Head of Slytherin and he's alright if you're a Slytherin, as long as you're not being stupid, but his classes can be … stressful."

"Thanks for the warning," said Harry. He took a sip of his juice and nearly spat it out when he realised it definitely wasn't orange juice. "What flavour is the juice?" he asked again. "I've never tasted juice that before."

"Yours is pumpkin juice," said Tracey after looking down at Harry's goblet. "I've got apple juice, I think there's a jug by Millie if you want some…"

Harry shook his head.

"It's okay, I've just never had it before," he said. "Aunt Petunia only buys orange juice, and I don't think Muggles really do pumpkin juice." He peered into his goblet curiously and then took another gulp of the cold juice. It wasn't sweetened, but it wasn't bad, either. "It's better now I'm expecting it," he said.

Harry continued eating his dinner and chatting with the other first year Slytherins until eventually, what remained of the sumptuous feast disappeared from the table only to be replaced by a diverse collection of different kinds of desserts, from fruit tarts to crackers and cheese, and ice cream and jelly. He helped himself to an apple crumble with custard and then set about the task of eating it, mindful not to get himself messy because he wasn't sure how the washing was handled.

When everyone had finished eating and the din had died down somewhat due to heavy bellies and the late hour, Dumbledore stood to make an announcement.

"Before you all retire to a night of restful sleep before term commences it would be remiss of me not to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is as the name suggests forbidden to all students. Mr Filch would like me to remind all of you that the list of contraband items can be found attached the door of his office should any of you need to acquaint yourselves with it—I am told this year it includes a few dozen additional entries. Additionally, due to the unprecedented escape of a prisoner from Azkaban prison, all students are to be reminded that Aurors will be present on and around the grounds of the school until the situation is resolved. All students use secret passageways and other unofficial exits and entrances from the school at their own risk. Given the nature of Hogwarts School it is impossible to police these adequately, and so we must rely in the innate good sense of our students in this difficult time—it is better to not use them at all, I should think," said Dumbledore.

He paused to allow his statement to sink in.

"Any new or particularly unusual passages should be immediately reported to a member of staff no matter how appealing they seem or indeed, where they go."

"Is he serious?" asked Harry.

"What does he mean, 'new passages'?" asked Draco Malfoy at the same time.

"It's better if you don't wonder, I think," said Gemma. "A few years ago the Arithmancy classroom had to be moved to a different part of the castle after an accident, and someone ignored the warnings about the old one and went missing. Anyway, he ended up being found in Timbuktu six months later covered in feathers and nobody could figure out why. So you don't have to like it, but it's probably better to just listen when Dumbledore says stuff like that. Hogwarts is weird sometimes. He's deadly serious."

Harry wasn't sure to do with that bit of information. Never having visited the castle before, how was he supposed to know what was new and unusual? He certainly didn't want to end up in Timbuktu covered in feathers.

"Now that the minutiae have been dealt with I feel it is now appropriate for us all to engage in a magic beyond any we practice here: music! So I would like you all to join me in singing the Hogwarts school song!" concluded Dumbledore.

At first, Harry worried that he would be the only person not to know the words to the song, but when he realised that only about half of the students in the Hall were singing the actual song, and most of those had chosen their own melody, he felt much better about mumbling along incoherently. Some of the older Slytherins had replaced most of the lines with rude words and phrases even, although Harry couldn't quite make out some of them. Eventually the Hall quietened as groups of students finished the song—all at different times—except for a pair of twins at the Gryffindor table who had decided to sing the song as some sort of funeral dirge and had only just reached the half-way point.

Dumbledore continued conducting the pair of boys with his wand until they at last reached the end.

"Ah, music," he said as he wiped a tear from his eye. "Truly a wonderful gift. Now, then – off to bed with the lot of you! Prefects!"

The Great Hall rapidly emptied of students as the older years flooded out of the doors leaving a horde of confused first years clustered around their House tables with a smattering of prefects who were attempting to corral them.

"Oi, Shafiq!" shouted Gemma to a tall, dark-skinned boy walking out of the Hall with his friends. "You're on firstie duty with me, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, then shouted towards the gathered first years, "You lot! Follow me and don't get lost!"

Harry followed Shafiq with the rest of the Slytherin first years out into the Entrance Hall. The Ravenclaws had already disappeared somewhere, but the Gryffindors peeled away from the group of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs to ascend the grand staircases at the urging of their prefects while the Hufflepuff and Slytherin prefects led their charges downstairs.

"Slytherins have to go down three sets of stairs," shouted Shafiq as he ushered the first years down the stairs, "that means you, idiot!" He grabbed the offending student by the back of the robes and dragged him back along with the Slytherins.

When the two groups diverged, Harry caught Ernie's eye and gave him thumbs up, then carried on with the rest of the Slytherins including Goyle, who had been collected by Gemma after going the wrong way – even after Shafiq's instructions.

"Word of advice," said Shafiq, "don't try following the Hufflepuffs home. Hogwarts keeps its secrets, so you'll just get lost. We have to keep going down this corridor here, see," he said, gesturing to the torch-lit underground corridor, "to about half-way. You'll get used to it, you'll see."

Eventually the third-year boy stopped at an utterly non-descript bit of wall and waited until all twenty or so first years had caught up with him.

"Right, when you get to the entrance you need a password to get in. We change it every so often, this month's password is, uh…" He paused for a few moments and then looked at Gemma.

"Heritage," supplied Gemma.

"Right, yeah, 'Heritage'," said Shafiq. "So you just say heritage," he said, and a doorway opened up in the wall showing the elegantly decorated space beyond, "and then the door opens. Easy as that. See?"

The first years were herded into the Slytherin Common Room and the wall sealed itself up behind them, leaving behind an ornate wooden doorway. Most of the older students had already gone to their dormitories, but Harry could see a few clusters of students spread throughout the vast green and silver space. Some sat on chairs near fireplaces, of which there were several, and others sat at desks in study nooks or similar spaces. The huge room had been built in such a way that there were many small to medium sized spaces within the larger room with varying degrees of privacy and solitude, which Harry supposed would be helpful when there were two hundred and fifty people all using it at the same time.

"This is the Common Room," said Gemma cheerily, "so let me be the first person to officially welcome you to Slytherin! As you can see we've got spaces for just hanging out and places where you can go to do homework and revision. We've got enough room for everyone so don't worry about finding a place to go. There's technically a curfew if you're not in third year, but so long as you're not being silly with it we're not going to enforce it too strictly," she said. "Just make sure you get up in time for breakfast!"

"We're not your parents," said Shafiq. "It's on you to make the right choices. But we are here to help if you need it, that's what prefects are for. If you've got any problems you can come to any of the prefects, if you don't feel comfortable talking to us you can go see Professor Snape, he's our Head of House. Every Saturday morning me and Gemma will be doing Homework Club in the Common Room. First years can't try out for Quidditch, so don't bother asking. Um…" He looked over at Gemma. "What else?"

"The windows!" she said. "If you look around the room you can see that our windows look out into the lake, it's really cool! Sometimes the giant squid comes around and every once in a while we can see the merpeople! Not often though, they stick to their own bit."

"Brilliant!" said Millicent. "Are the dorms like that too?"

"Yep!" said Gemma. "All the windows in Slytherin House look out into the lake, even in the dorms. There are four first year dorms this year," she said, "so if all you girls follow me, and the boys follow Shaffy we can get you all sorted!"

Gemma and Shafiq led the first years through an unassuming doorway and into narrow hallway which branched off into opposite directions.

"You lot are lucky, last year the firsties were all the way at the end, but you all get the first dorms off the entrance. It's five to a dorm," said Shafiq. "Boys to the right—all the boys' dorms are this way—girls to the left," he said. "Don't try and go that way, lads, the floor bounces you back out if you try."

The first year girls followed Gemma the other way and Harry followed the boys after giving a thumbs up to Tracey and Millicent. Neither group had very far to go from the fork in the hallway, but Shafiq stopped almost abruptly as the boys reached the first doorway.

"Right lads, there's nine of you this year so, that's one dorm of five and one of four. And no, you don't get to choose who you're with, that's been decided already. I don't know who chose, so don't ask. Complain if you want but ... not to me, yeah? Let's have a look here…" said Shafiq as he peered at the brass plaque on the door.

"Crabbe, Malfoy, Nott, Potter, and Zabini!" said Shafiq. "You're in the first dorm, your stuff should be here already. Which means… Goyle, Wash, Singh, and… Miller! You're in the next one and you've got a bit more space with just the four of you. Get on with it the lot of you," he said. Shafiq gave all of the first year boys a look over and then glanced down the hallway before looking back at the boys. "I'm off to bed, so don't do anything that needs me to wake up, got it?"

Shafiq waited just long enough to hear a muttered chorus of half-hearted replies and then left for his own dormitory. The Slytherin first year boys lingered outside their dormitories just a while, with Crabbe and Goyle seeming especially put out that they had been separated, but eventually the two groups said goodnight to one another and entered their own dorms.

Harry seemed to be the only one to be particularly impressed by their dorm room, which was decorated in Slytherin green and silver and filled by five four-poster beds, each with curtains and arranged all in a line at either side of the door. Between the two sets of beds on the opposite wall was a door with a plaque on it which read 'BATHROOM'. Two large windows at either side of the bathroom door – impossible as it seemed to Harry – looked out into the murk of the lake rather than into the bathroom, where the view was mostly lake weeds and the occasional odd creature as it floated by.

"Oh, tough luck, Zabini," said Draco, "yours is right by the bathroom door."

Blaise eyed the bed next to his curiously.

"Want to trade, Crabbe?"

"No," said the squat, dull-eyed boy.

"Well, it was worth a try," said Blaise with an exaggerated sigh.

Harry found his bed easily enough – it had his trunk at the foot of it and a little sign with his name on one of the posts – between Theodore and Draco's beds and sat on it.

"These beds aren't half bad," admitted Draco after he'd started to lounge over his own bed. "The sheets could do with replacing with something a bit nicer but I suppose you can't expect too much these days. It's only school after all."

"It's nicer than my bed at home," said Vince eventually. "Bigger as well."

"Yes, well, having seen what passes for taste in your … house I'm not surprised," said Draco.

Inwardly, Harry cringed; if Vince's bed was such a bad example of the genre, he shuddered to think what Draco would have thought of his bedroom. Mass-produced Muggle sheets, even though his aunt had bought them at John Lewis, probably didn't rate very highly in Draco's opinion. Prudently, he decided not to say anything at all.

"Draco, you have albino peacocks in your garden," said Theodore after a few moments. "There's tasteful and then there's, you know, that. Even your mum thinks they're a bit much."

Blaise sniggered.

"Really? Albino peacocks? Whatever for?"

"They look rather impressive," defended Draco. "My family has had them for centuries. They were a gift from a king, you know."

"No they weren't," scoffed Theodore. "My dad told me your great-whatever nicked them off that Muggle queen they're always going on about."

"Well, a king gave them to her," muttered Draco. "It's the same thing."

The other boys laughed. Harry had been enjoying his time in Slytherin so far although he did worry a bit that he wouldn't fit in – Theodore, Draco, and Vince knew each other already, and Blaise seemed to have moved in the same sorts of circles as the other boys. Would Harry, Muggle-raised Harry, raised by Dursleys at that, fit amongst such a group of people?

The five boys stayed up a little later talking until eventually, they all agreed it was time to go to bed—except for Vince who had already fallen asleep—and Draco called out 'Nox'. The room's lamps all extinguished at once and Harry settled into his large and comfortable bed with the curtains closed to drift off to sleep, no longer quite as worried about what the next day would bring.

In a word, he felt like he was home.