Disclaimer: Please see Chapter Zero.
Author's Notes: This chapter is longish, to go with the longish wait. Poor, to go with my writing skills. Also, as a warning, this is probably going to contain only strictly canon ships, as most of what happens is a very firm reflection of canon. Sorry, if that bothers some people. :-/
Thank you all for your reviews; I truly appreciate your feedback and constructive criticism. It helps me as I try to improve my writing.
Without further ado, I ask you to once again please suspend your sense of reality, and send you forth to the next chapter!
o.o.o.o
1 September, 1991
10:49 AM
Harry's parents took him to King's Cross as early as they could -- James had to go to work, and Lily really didn't want Remus watching the girls for very long. They arrived, and had Harry settled, with twenty minutes to spare. Harry had picked the rear compartment, he wasn't sure why, while his father laughingly explained that he and Sirius had always sat at the end of the train, too.
As soon as his trunk was loaded and he'd sat down, Lily kissed her son's cheek. "I'll see you at Christmas, all right, Harry?" she said rather sadly. He nodded, and she smiled. "I'll make sure the girls write you."
Harry nodded again; he'd decided that he liked his sisters, despite everything. It wasn't the girls' fault his parents hadn't told him about them.
"I'll write to them, too," he volunteered casually, and turned his head away.
He said nothing about writing his parents. Clearly, it was deliberate.
The corner's of Lily's mouth tightened. She began, "You remember how to use He--"
"I know how to use my owl, Mum," Harry assured her. On the seat next to him, Hedwig hooted softly. Lily glanced at her, and fell silent.
"Well, son, we'll see you for Christmas," stated James. The look on his face, slightly militant, suggested that he expected his son to contradict him. When Harry only nodded, James managed a smile and added, "We'll be waiting for you--"
"Sirius is picking me up," declared Harry, firmly. He was still looking out the window.
James and Lily glanced at each other. "Son--"
"He promised!" snapped Harry, facing them suddenly. His face was tight and pale. "He promised!"
No wonder Sirius had seemed guilty when he'd left their house the day before.
Seeing the tenseness on her son's face, though she could no make out any identifiable emotion, Lily recoiled. "Yes, dear," she said quickly, because James, looking angry, seemed about to say something else. "Sirius can pick you up."
James, a muscle in his jaw working, nodded his acquiescence. "Sirius can pick you up."
Internally, Lily winced. She'd have to think of a reason not to be around when her husband cornered his best friend. Perhaps she'd take the girls to Diagon Alley; they wouldn't need to witness a shouting match, either. Especially not one of Sirius and James's shouting matches. Ella needed new robes, anyway.
"You'd better get going," Harry said, into the heavy silence that had taken over the compartment. He glanced at his left wrist. "Dad's going to be late for work."
Trying to figure out how looking at your bare wrist told you the time, James nodded. "Right, son. Well. Have fun, and don't get caugh--"
Lily smacked the back of his head, giving him a very pointed, disapproving glare. He swallowed. "Er, that is, don't get in any trouble."
Harry smirked at his mother. His eyes had narrowed, and over all he seemed very pleased with himself. "I never get caught, Dad, don't worry."
Lily groaned.
"I love you, son," James said quickly, bending and placing a kiss on Harry's forehead, to hide the fact he was grinning.
"Thank you," said Harry, inclining his head slightly in difference.
There was no way to really take that, so James turned away. Lily took his place, repeating his actions and statement.
Again, Harry tilted his head forward and muttered, "Thank you."
Lily sighed sadly. "Don't you love us, Harry?"
Looking at them, as if slightly perplexed, Harry shrugged. "I don't know you."
He turned away again. James couldn't think of anything to say, so he left. Lily, in the same predicament, kissed her son again, and followed her husband.
°
1 September, 1991
10:57 AM
As she did every year, Ginny Weasley looked longingly up at the train that would be taking her brothers to Hogwarts. She wished she could go, too!
For some reason, her eyes drifted to the end of the train, even though she usually contented herself with staring at the scarlet steam engine. There, in what looked like it was the last compartment, she saw a black-haired boy sitting next to the window. He looked rather curious, and was staring at her family.
Their eyes met.
Ginny gasped.
Harry smiled.
°
1 September, 1991
11:04 AM
No-one tried to sit in the same compartment as Harry. He was glad of this, but not particularly surprised. People tended to avoid his presence, unless they had a real reason not to.
Unfortunately, as he wasn't disturbed, he got a little bored.
For the last few minutes before the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station, Harry'd been staring out the window. He wasn't entirely sure what had prompted him to do it, but he'd felt somewhere deep inside him that he needed to watch the platform.
When the large family of redheads had appeared, he'd suddenly known.
His eyes were drawn first to the youngest boy, who held his attention for several moments. Then he'd gotten a good look at the young girl. She too had held his attention for awhile -- and she'd looked right at him. When she'd met his gaze, the only thing he could do was smile. For a moment he couldn't even think, and only a loud hissing from the area of his left arm had recalled him to the present.
The twins, standing by the woman who must have been their mother, were the next to attract his interest. He decided instantly that at some point, he would have to make friends with them.
The last brother, the one with the Prefect's badge pinned to his robes, appeared rather uppity. Harry felt an immediate sense of pity, laced with dislike -- this was one of those people he was going to have to fix, he could already tell. The mother he'd smiled at, because she looked like the sort of woman one was supposed to smile at.
He'd watched the two females as the train started, and took note of the way the young girl looked, running after the train. If he put his head right up against the glass, he could see her twin brothers hanging out of one of the windows, waving at her.
The track turned, and the girl was out of sight. Feeling vaguely disappointed for some reason, Harry settled back into his seat, and waited.
After several minutes, his patience was rewarded. The door of the compartment slid open, and the youngest boy of the redheaded family came in.
"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."
Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced around the compartment and then looked quickly out of the window. He seemed uncomfortable. Harry saw he had a black mark on his nose; possibly the dirt Harry had heard his mother complaining about.
"Hey, Ron."
The twins had followed their brother. Harry knew instinctively that it was to make sure Ron got settled all right, though doubtless they'd never actually say as much.
Seeing that their brother was fine, the twins grinned. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Lee's got a giant tarantula down there."
"Right," mumbled Ron.
The twins spared a glance for Harry, but finding him uninteresting, simply waved at their brother. "See you later, then, Ron."
"Bye," Ron said. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.
"What's your name?" asked Harry politely, after several moments of silence. He'd already figured it out, of course, but he thought he might as well ask as not.
"Ron Weasley," muttered Ron, who still looked rather uncomfortable. He managed to look at Harry straight in the face. "What's yours?"
"Harry," said Harry.
"Oh. Okay." Ron looked like he was going to let the conversation die out completely, but remembered his manners at the last moment and said, "Nice to meet you."
"And you, too," returned Harry, hiding a smile. The boy was as awkward as he'd expected. "I saw you out on the platform -- are all your family wizards?"
"Er," mumbled Ron. He seemed confused that anyone would be interested in his family. "Yeah. Mostly. I think."
Ron observed the boy sitting across from him. Harry looked a little odd; he was wearing Muggle clothes but they didn't seem to suit him, he had a weird accent, and his face was kind of blank. He seemed friendly enough, however, and he appeared to find Ron interesting.
So Ron, never really one to waste such a perfectly good opportunity when he didn't actually have to do anything, asked, "What about yours?"
"I lived with Muggles," Harry said flatly. "They're all right, Muggles. Most of them, anyway. I've known a few bad ones."
This Ron found interesting. It didn't occur to him that a boy who lived with Muggles probably wouldn't know what a Muggle was. "I wish I'd lived with Muggles."
"No, you don't," snapped Harry, displaying real emotion for the first time since Ron had walked in. Then, he seemed to remember himself, and calmed down, adding lamely, "You wouldn't have liked it."
"Er-- All right." Ron shrugged, uncomfortable again. He really did want to talk to this boy, but he wasn't sure he could think of anything to say. He settled for bringing up his favorite subject. "What's your Quidditch team?"
Harry looked like he was about to nod, but stopped. After a second, he said, "I'm not familiar with Quidditch, sorry."
"Oh!"
With this emphatic exclamation, Harry was jolted back into his own mind. The redhead thought so loudly that Harry'd actually felt as if he were in Ron's place for a few moments there. He shook his head, not entirely pleased with the sensation; it did, however prove that things were going mostly as they should. He was only waiting for one person now.
Relaxing most of the way, he turned back to what Ron was actually saying. "... you wait, it's the best game in the world --"
And Ron was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if his parents gave him the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game -- including several mentions of how well he himself hoped to be some day, with practice -- when the compartment door slid open again.
This time it wasn't a redhead. It was a girl, with lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.
"Hello there," Harry said, a little surprised, but not much. He'd expected the girl to show up, but somehow he'd imagined she'd be leading a shy boy without a toad around -- he couldn't explain why -- and here it seemed she was on her own.
She entered the compartment slowly, and Harry saw that she really was all alone. He also saw that her slowness wasn't a result of nervousness or anything of that sort, but of a determination to take note of everything about the situation she was entering.
"Hello," she said back, her eyes sliding past the almost ordinary-looking Harry, to the flame-headed Ron. She had a voice that sounded as if it were usually bossy. "May I sit in here? I've been wandering the train looking for somewhere to be, but, well..."
Ron nodded without waiting for her to finish. Hedwig's cage was still beside Harry, so she took the seat next to Ron. Her trunk thumped slightly as she let go of it.
Harry reached over and slid the compartment door closed. They wouldn't be bothered now; no-one else was coming.
Silence descended on the group for a moment, as Ron lacked the words to say something, and Harry lacked the inclination.
"I'm Hermione Granger," declared the girl into the quiet air around them. She spoke rather officiously, now that she was seated. "Who are you?"
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered, staring at the girl with a bit of what looked like awe.
"Harry Potter," supplied Harry.
"Oh! Are you really?" asked Hermione. She seemed excited. "I know all about you, of course -- I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
Harry arched on of his eyebrows. "Am I?"
"Yes!" said Ron, before Hermione could. Now he looked distinctly awed. "You're also in Miraculous Magical Mysteries Volume IV."
It was Hermione's turn to look impressed. "He is?"
"Am I?" Harry repeated, though for the moment he was a bit superfluous to the conversation.
"Didn't you know?" exclaimed Ron and Hermione in unison. They exchanged sheepish looks and mumbled apologies, after which Hermione went on, "Goodness, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me."
"I wasn't very interested in improving my ego," Harry explained. He was smiling slightly. "Besides, I had no idea."
Ron goggled at him.
Hermione seemed to decide that they needed to change the subject. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I was going to ask around, but I haven't had the chance so far. From what I've read in Hogwarts, A History, I think I'd prefer Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..."
"Gryffindor?" queried Harry, raising both eyebrows this time. He turned to Ron. "What house are your brothers in?"
"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him for some reason. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."
"What's wrong with Slytherin?" hissed Harry, annoyed before he could stop himself. Ron looked at him curiously. There was a slight wariness in his face.
"That's the house You-Know-Who was in," Hermione explained. "I don't think I'd much like it, either; it doesn't seem the best place, from what I've read."
"You've read right," muttered Ron.
Harry looked rather noncommittal. Inside, he felt himself not all together happy, but knew that showing it would be a bad idea. "I see."
Hermione seemed to be in her element. "The other house, Hufflepuff -- I heard it doesn't get much respect. From all the books I read, I wasn't very impressed."
"They're a bit lame," Ron agreed, as he stood up. "I'll be back in a minute, I need to find the loo."
"All right," said Hermione, though she looked a little put out that half her audience was leaving. Ron sent her a tentative smile as he disappeared.
This was good, Harry decided. He felt he had something very important to say to Hermione -- he wasn't sure why, actually -- but now would be a good time to say it.
"You know," Harry began conversationally, as soon as the door closed behind Ron, "I wouldn't go around talking about reading too many books, and learning all the course books by heart, and things like that, if I were you."
Hermione stared at him, slightly incredulous. (She also looked a little offended, but Harry ignored that.) "What?"
"It's not the way to go about making friends," explained Harry. "It sounds rather like you're bragging."
"I'm not--" Hermione started to say, defensively. She looked rather pink around the ears.
"Oh, I know," Harry assured her calmly. He smiled a little slyly. "But other people might not. You want to make more friends than just me, don't you?"
"Of course I--" snapped Hermione. She stopped on her own, however, halfway through her sentence, as something dawned on her. "... What did you say?"
"You want to make more friends than just me, don't you?" repeated Harry. He was still smiling, more widely now, as he knew he'd got through to her.
"You're my friend?"
"Well, of course! If you want me, that is." Harry already knew she did; she'd never had a real friend before. It hadn't been hard to figure out, as she thought even more loudly than Sirius did. Not quite as loudly as Ron, but very loudly, indeed.
"Oh. All right." Hermione smiled shyly.
Harry smiled back at her, briefly, but as soon as Ron reentered the compartment, he turned his attention to a small book he'd pulled out of his pocket.
Ron and Hermione managed to carry the conversation on their own for quite a while, even though it was mostly friendly bickering, but eventually, Hermione noticed that he was reading.
"What's that?" she asked, curious.
Ron turned and looked. "Yeah," he said. "What're you reading?"
"It's a Latin grammar book," Harry lied. Romanian would be a little on the unbelievable side, he felt. "My godfather wants me to get a classical education, even though I'm going to Hogwarts."
"Oh," said Ron, because Hermione looked too confused to say anything. (Harry imagined she was trying to adjust to someone else knowing something she didn't.) "Sounds boring."
"It's not, really," Harry said, smiling slightly. "I could teach you, if you like."
"Oh! Yes!" cried Hermione excitedly. Ron, who'd looked about to decline the suggestion, seemed to take this as a challenge, and nodded as well.
Then, because it still seemed so boring, he offered, "And I can teach you both Quidditch. Hermione's Muggleborn, so she won't know it, either."
"I'd like that," said Harry sincerely.
"I suppose I would, too," Hermione said, and Ron beamed.
With a small smile fighting its way to his face, Harry turned back to his book.
They were well out of London by this time, and they were now speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a bit, Ron and Hermione watching the fields and lanes flick past.
Around a half hour later, there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the car, dears?"
Hermione looked curious, but Ron's ears went pink and he mumbled that he'd brought sandwiches. Rising slowly to his feet, Harry went out into the corridor.
His pockets were rattling with all the gold and silver that first Sirius and then his parents had given him, for just this sort of thing, so Harry looked over the cart eager. The woman had Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other things that Harry didn't find the least bit strange, though he'd never seen them before in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, however, he got some of everything and paid the woman one gold Galleon and ten bronze Knuts.
Ron and Hermione stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto the empty seat on the other side of Hedwig's cage.
"Hungry, are you?"
"Starving," said Harry, though it was something of a fib. He took a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.
Hermione watched him and tried to pretend that she wasn't. She had some pocket money, but her parents hadn't thought to get it converted from pound notes, so she couldn't buy anything for herself. She hadn't had much for breakfast, either.
Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and mumbled, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."
"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on --"
"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron, uncomfortable again. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."
"Go on, have a pasty," instructed Harry. "You too, Hermione."
When they both hesitated, he admonished, "I can't possibly eat it all on my own."
It turned out he didn't have to say anything else.
They enjoyed themselves the rest of the ride, sitting there together, eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies. Ron's sandwiches lay forgotten by all but Hermione, who'd attempted to eat one early on, as her parents were dentists and objected to sweets in general -- but she found they were dry, just as Ron had said, and she didn't like them much.
"What are these?" Hermione asked Ron eagerly, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?"
"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."
Harry watched in silence as Hermione's brow creased slightly. "What?"
"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know -- Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect -- famous witches and wizards," explained Ron, who seemed proud that his knowledge of something was being used. "I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa of Ptolemy."
Hermione unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard and mustache. Underneath the picture was the man's name.
"Oh, it's Dumbledore!" cried Hermione excitedly.
"Yeah," Ron muttered. He sat back in his seat, having leaned across to read the card over her shoulder. "I've got about a million of him -- Can I have a frog, Harry? I might get Agrippa -- thanks."
Hermione turned over her card and read it aloud. "Albus Dumbledore: Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling."
Harry kept his face in his book.
Hermione turned the card back over and saw to her mild astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared. "He's gone!" she exclaimed.
"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."
As Hermione blushed slightly and accepted the card, Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.
"Help yourself," offered Harry, amusement obvious in his voice. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."
"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"
This sparked a conversation between Ron and Hermione about the differences between the two worlds, which lasted almost all the way 'til they reached Hogwarts.
When the train seemed to be slowing down, they all hurried to take off their jackets and pull on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see the tops of his sneakers underneath -- he explained that this was because his mother had thought to be clever, and bought them back at the start of August.
A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
Harry was still calm, but Ron looked pale under his freckles and as for Hermione, he saw, her stomach seemed to be lurching with nerves, if her fidgeting was anything to go by. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridors.
The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air, and gently hugged his left arm to his chest.
A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and they heard a voice calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Ron?"
They looked up into the face of a very large man with what appeared to be a bushy mane, beaming over the sea of heads, and Ron grinned widely. "Hullo, Hagrid."
"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry was sure there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Ooooooh!"
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, it's windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
Harry felt himself to be rather unimpressed, but Hermione and Ron enjoyed the sight immensely.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron and Hermione were followed to their boat by a pudgy, shy-looking boy that Ron greeted as Neville.
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead -- except Harry, who was staring at Neville narrowly.
This was another person he'd be having to fix, though not as much as he might have expected. Thank heaven for small favors.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
They clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.
"Everyone here?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.
The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.
"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 so big you could have almost fit the whole of Harry's parents' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -- the rest of the school would already be waiting in the Great Hall -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about 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..."
What followed was an explanation of the houses and why they mattered that Harry blocked out completely, as he was sure he didn't need to know any of it.
"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 smudged nose. Harry would have tried to flatten his hair, but he knew it was pointless.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber. Harry heard Ron swallow.
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" asked Neville, who'd followed them over to the corner they were huddled in.
Ron answered him. "Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
For a moment, Harry felt like laughing at such absurdity. He looked around, to see how everyone else was taking things, and saw that they all looked terrified. No one was talking much, not even Hermione, who Harry knew was just dying to start whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. He was glad she was listening to his advice and holding it in, though.
What a miserable looking group of children.
"They put a hat on your head," Harry said into the relative silence, soothingly. "And the hat decides which house you'll be in. That's it."
Almost all of the other first years gaped at him.
"I thought you said you grew up with Muggles!" said Ron.
At the same time, Neville demanded, "How do you know that?"
"My godfather told me," Harry answered calmly. He was grinning slightly. "And my godfather doesn't dare lie to me, so I know it's true. You can all relax."
Before anyone could say anything else, Professor McGonagall returned. "Form a line," she told the first years in a sharp voice, "and follow me."
Feeling oddly as though he'd done all of this before -- only last time his legs had seemed to be made out of lead -- Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville fell in at the end of the line. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
The strange, splendid place was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students were spots of shining misty silver; ghosts, Harry knew.
Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, even though not a single one seemed to be looking at him, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper helpfully, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, Harry. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
It was almost hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open up on the heavens.
Harry didn't bother looking down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.
Most of the first years shot incredulous glances at Harry, thinking very loudly that they wondered how he'd really known.
After a few seconds of silence, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth. The hat began to sing; Harry knew this song -- he could have sung along word for word -- and so didn't listen.
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finish its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
"So you were right," Ron whispered to Harry, sounding annoyed. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Harry smiled.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with a blond ponytail stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause --
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw one of the ghosts waving merrily at her.
Harry didn't really pay any attention to the rest of the ceremony (it bored him immensely, as he found he knew where everyone was going to end up already), until Hermione's name was called.
"Granger, Hermione!"
She almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron beamed.
Harry smiled slightly, even though he'd known that was going to happen.
When Neville Longbottom, the shy boy who'd shared their boat, was called, he nearly fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took what was almost a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville narrowly remembered to set it back on the stool before he ran off to sit down.
A blond boy swaggered forward as his name was called and looked very pleased with himself when the hat barely had to touch his head before it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" (Harry knew the minute he saw him that he wasn't going to like this boy, but maybe he would have to work on him, anyway.)
There weren't many people left now.
Harry waiting patiently, until at last McGonagall called, "Potter, Harry!"
As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
"I thought he disappeared!"
The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited some more.
"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"
Harry kept his thoughts perfectly blank. The hat just had to look a little further, and then it would know.
"... Oh dear me," said the small voice. "I wonder how I didn't see this right off. Well then, since you're determined, I'd better go along, and -- GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall, and had to fight back an exceptionally smug smirk. He took the hat off and walked toward the Gryffindor table. He noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet, but ignored it. Ron's twin brothers yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
Harry sat down opposite Hermione, next to Neville, and waited for Ron to join them. When he did, they would eat, and the others would be taken up to Gryffindor Tower. Harry himself, he suspected, would be summoned to the Headmaster's office.
... after all, Sirius and Remus had to have been writing those reports to somebody for all those years.