CHAPTER SIX
THE SORTING HAT
The door swung open at once, there awaiting the first years was Professor McGonagall. Harry soon saw that she had on her usual very stern face and most of the students 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 Potter Manor in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, 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 must already be here — 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," she said. "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, 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 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, which he fixed rather quickly. She then turned on Ron's smudged nose and then Harry nodded to her, and she nodded back with a rare smile to see the famous boy wizard ready to begin his first of seven years at school.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall, becoming strict again. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber. Neville swallowed.
"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" he asked Ron.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
A lot of students' hearts gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But they didn't know any magic yet — what on earth would they have to do? None hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. They looked around anxiously and saw that only a few looked didn't look terrified at all. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Many tried hard not to listen to her. For they'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead them to their doom.
It was only when Harry broke the silence, he turned to speak to Ron and Neville.
"You're not going to be given a test. My mom told me that the Sorting Hat is all there is to it, and it chooses which house suits you based upon your traits."
"So we've just got to try on the Hat." Ron said. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Neville smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to perform a spell.
Then something happened that made most of the newcomers jump about a foot in the air — several people behind one another screamed.
About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.
Nobody answered.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few people nodded mutely, others said 'yes' or something thereof.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."
Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
He could only dream if such a splendid place besides his own home. It 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, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.
Harry quickly looked down 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, this, he presumed, was the Sorting Hat. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
Professor McGonagall now 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 blonde pigtails 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 the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.
"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, while "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.
"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin.
Harry was starting to ponder back on what his mom and Uncle Remus said, they'd love him no matter which house he'd make, even if wound up in Slytherin.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat. Ron sighed in relief.
A horrible thought struck the remaining students, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if they weren't chosen at all? What if they just sat there with the hat over their eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off their head and said there had obviously been a mistake and they'd better get back on the train?
When Neville was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."
Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. There weren't many people left now. "Moon"…, "Nott"…, "Parkinson"…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"…, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last —
"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?"
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 patiently.
"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 gripped the edges of the stool, "Does it matter where I go?" He asked rather curiously, "I've been doing some pondering over the summer, and I really don't want to be a carbon copy of my dad."
"Ah, yes…" said the small voice, pondering the situation at hand. "You're the son of James Potter. And from what I can see, you'd like to be your own man from what I understand. But is that what you truly want?"
Harry nodded, "That being said, is there any house you believe that I'd excel in?"
The hat started to think, after all, it did promise that it was a thinking cap.
"Looking inside you, you exhibit traits of almost all the houses, except for Ravenclaw. That said, you do show promise on being a bright pupil. As for which house you would excel immensely well in… I believe you'd be a credit to your house no matter where you go."
"I do have plenty of loyalty." Harry added.
"I get that, Mr. Potter." The hat said. "You show quality traits for all of the houses, thus this makes you one of the few wizards to be in the grey. Do you really have no objections where you'll go then?"
"I don't," said Harry.
"Just so you know," the hat continued, "it's all here in your head, anywhere you go, they will help you on the way to greatness."
"I know, it's just that I want to be my own man, that's all. Well, that and just Harry Potter, nothing more, nothing less." Harry said with a smile, in his eyes were the warm spark of kindness, with a touch of humor. "But I do not want to be the next dark wizard, so please, nothing evil for me."
"Very well, 'just Harry', " the hat laughed warmly, "I see great things in store for you — as such, you'd better be… SLYTHERIN!"
But to Harry's surprise, there was no applause on either side of the four House tables, there was not even a sign of booing or hissing. Instead, he saw that the following happened: The Gryffindors were in a stare of uproar of dismay, the Hufflepuffs all screamed the word 'what?!' in disbelief, the Ravenclaws were completely shocked, and the Slytherins were speechless.
Dumbledore then turned to look at a man with a hooked nose and greasy black hair who Harry presumed was Professor Snape.
"Well, that escalated rather quickly, Severus." *
Snape didn't answer, he instead gave Dumbledore a look on his face that said, 'do you think?' .
Amidst the dismay and other feelings, it was a few minutes later that all the students, both brand new and returning began to fight or panic about the situation at hand, some went even further, they soon began demanding a re-sorting of the Boy Who Lived.
Putting a wand to his vocal box, Dumbledore yelled, "Silence!" The students turned to face the Headmaster, "If Harry Potter is happy where he is sorted, he will stay where he is." He frowned, "Anyone who thinks otherwise, please do not attempt to discourage the young Mr. Potter."
Leaving his seat, he approached Harry.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
Nodding, Harry answered truthfully, "Yes, sir." He trembled a little, "Incidentally, I hope that you are not mad about my choice."
Dumbledore shook his head warmly, as he put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder and smiled, "No, not at all, Harry. Not at all." He smiled, "As I said, it's not your abilities that matter, but rather your choices. So, I'm very proud of you."
"Thank you, sir." Harry sighed in relief as he handed the Sorting Hat back to McGonagall and took his seat at the Slytherin table, Dumbledore then returned to his favorite chair.
Harry then took a look at Hagrid, who smiled warmly and gave him the thumbs up, Harry returned it and then spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.
And now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Neville at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. A second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry clapped loudly with the rest of the Weasley family as Ron collapsed into the chair next to Neville.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Neville as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties, Chocolate Frogs, and Every Flavor Beans seemed ages ago.
Dumbledore had gotten to his feet again. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
"Thank you!"
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Neville didn't know whether to laugh or not.
"Is he — a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.
"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Neville?"
Harry's, along with Neville's mouth, fell open. The dishes in front of them were now piled with food. They had never seen so many things they'd liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
Most of the students piled his or her individual plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.
"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Neville cut up his steak.
"Can't you — ?" began Neville.
"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."
"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.
"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. "Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."
Over at the Slytherin table, Harry saw a ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus across the Gryffindor table with great interest.
"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.
When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…
As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, on all sides the four tables, the talk on all sides turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
The others laughed.
"What about you, Neville?" said one Gryffindor.
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, explaining for the second time today having told Harry and Ron earlier, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
On Harry's other side, Hermione a Ravenclaw girl named Penelope Clearwater were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult —"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing —").
Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet.
Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to Snape.
It happened very suddenly. Snape looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes — and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.
"What is it?" asked a girl, who was Slytherin Prefect.
"N-nothing."
The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teachers look — a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he didn't like Harry or Quirrell at all.
"Do you know if Snape hates anyone, say like Quirrell?" he asked the Prefect.
"Oh, you know Quirrell and Snape already, do you?" asked the girl curiously. "No wonder Quirrell's looking so nervous. Everyone knows Snape's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, he does." She held a hand and introduced herself, "Gemma Farley at your service, Mr. Potter."
Relieved to have something else to talk about, Harry shook her hand warmly.
"Nice to meet you."
"I want you to know, Potter," Gemma continued, "that while Slytherin may have a nasty reputation for being ambitious and cunning, I hope it won't shake up your trust in us."
"No," Harry replied, shaking his head, "not at all."
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."
Ron laughed, but he was one of the few who did.
"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.
"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told the prefects, at least."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"
And the school bellowed:
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."
Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
The Slytherin first years followed Gemma through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led the Gryffindors through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.
A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Gemma took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.
"Peeves," Gemma whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." She raised her voice, "Peeves — show yourself."
A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.
"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"
There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.
"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"
He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Gemma.
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Crabbe's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.
"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Gemma, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are." At the very end of the corridor hung a stretch of bare, damp stone wall with the portrait of a serpent.
"Password," it hissed.
"Sopophorus Beans," announced Gemma.
Sure enough, the stone wall slid back to reveal a hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Crabbe needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Slytherin common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
Gemma directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a straightforward staircase — they were obviously in the dungeons — they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with dark green, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.
"Great food, isn't it?" one student muttered to Harry through the hangings, Harry nodded agreeing.
Harry then quickly changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth and then set to work on a quick letter to both his mom and Lupin, he also made two duplicates, one for Aunt Petunia and one for Dudley, and here's what he wrote:
Dear Mom, Uncle Remus, Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley:
I made it safe and sound to Hogwarts, classes start first thing tomorrow
and I am excited to learn all that I can. I hope that this letter finds you all
in good health and what not. I'll write you more as time goes by with my
lessons and everything. I wound up getting Sorted in Slytherin and I have
been assured by my prefect that despite its foreboding reputation that
not all Slytherins are evil. I hope that things are going well with all of you.
With love,
Harry
The instant he was done writing and sent Hedwig off, Harry fell asleep almost at once.
Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Gyffindor at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Gryffindor; he was happy where he was. But to his dismay, the turban got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it — then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold — there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.
He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.
Author's notes:
* So that was my sixth chapter of the Sorcerer's Stone, and as always with every one of my stories, let me know what you all think so far by leaving your feedback in the comments area.
* The Harry Potter franchise, its characters, elements and everything else are owned and were created by J. K. Rowling.
* The "That escalated quickly." line Dumbledore uses comes from the movie Anchorman, which I won't deny is not one of my personal favorites, but it DOES have some interesting and funny lines now and again.
That said, until the next chapter my fellow Wizards, Witches and Muggles:
I'm M. R. Parkerson signing off…
