Chapter 6

The group searched for another thirty minutes – and spent fifteen minute on top of that listening to Neville try to apologize for getting Hermione in trouble – before the twins seemingly from nowhere told Hermione that they were allowed to do magic on the train. After a stern word to the twins for keeping that from her and for not even thinking of using magic, and then one Point Me spell from her wand, Trevor was located in the bathroom. He was curled up behind the leaky sink and letting little drops of water splash on his toady head.

Having helped the first-year, they let him return to his compartment and returned to their own to spend the rest of the time playing – in Hermione's case learning – Exploding Snap, and then Hermione giving up in favour of reviewing her Third Year Charms textbook.

Which earned her a strange look from the twins.

"You know, we thought you were joking when you told Perce you're a third year," Fred commented, eyeing the book.

"Nope," Hermione shot them a happy, happy smile. "They're letting me skip ahead! I'm so excited! Professor Snape said I'll need a tutor and be behind in Potions, but he's letting me spend Sunday evening brewing with him. He even said he'd find me a tutor for the rest of my classes!"

George and Fred looked at each other with a look then a nod before turning to her. "If you're in our classes,"

"-you can sit by us."

"Hey!" Lee ejaculated. "What about me?"

They gave him a look of grinning amusement. "Would you deny us the chance to corrupt the ickle firstie?"

"I-I woudn't want to bother you, Lee," Hermione said uncomfortably. "But, I mean, since I haven't been sorted, the Professor said only some of my classes will be with Gryffindor. Is-I mean-Would it be okay if I sit with you guys for the first little bit in those ones, while I get used to everything?"

Fred motioned to her dramatically. "See that, Lee? Would you say no to that? Really?"

Lee sighed dramatically. "Fine, but if we're in the couples' rooms, one of you sits with her and the other sits with me."

Both twins cheered, but Hermione looked at Lee in confusion.

"Couples' rooms," Lee explained. "Rooms with two people per desk. One of us always feels like the third wheel, like with a couple and a friend. Usually it's those bozos and I pair with someone from the Quidditch team. Mostly Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense, though Defense sometimes changes up."

Hermione tilted her head. "What about the other classes?"

Before long, the boys had her go change into her uniform and robes while they changed in the compartment. It was only the second time she'd worn them – the first was in Madame Maulkins – but now it felt like there was a small, low-level tingle surrounding her. Like they were waiting for some sort of catalyst.

When they arrived at the station, Fred and George pulled her through the crowd and to another red-headed boy that seemed to be her age.

"Ronnie-kins!" They called out, making the boy – Ron, she corrected herself – turn around and glare at them. George patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry mate-"

"But had to get your attention."

"Can you look after our friend for us? She's muggleborn, see."

"Thanks!" They called, abandoning the pair of them. "See you in school, little spitfire!"

Both kids looked away from each other awkwardly. Introduced by the twins, introduced by the brother, it was a little embarrassing for any eleven-year-old. Advanced or not. Luckily, a little boy with black hair didn't know that and introduced himself.

"Erm, hi," he said. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced automatically, then flushed at how prim and proper she felt. "So, we don't go to the school with the other kids?"

Ron got involved them. "No, we go across the Black Lake! We may even see the giant squid!"

"Firs'-years! Firs' years over here!" A giant man with a lantern called them all in a big booming voice.

The black-haired boy jumped. "Hagrid!"

Hermione followed the two boys up to the massive, hairy man and followed after the group of first-years, but her head was spinning. Giant Squid?

(Edited from Page 118 of TPS)

"All righ' there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hair face smiled at the boy over the crowd of first years before returning to everyone.

"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 so dark on either side of them that Hermione jumped in fear whenever a shadow moved among the trees, or the wind blew the branches around. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who had lost his toad, sniffed once or twice and Hermione drew him over to make sure he was okay. She was happy she earned a grateful, relieved smile in return.

"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 'Ooooh!'.

The narrow path had opened suddenly on the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

Beautiful. Splendid. Resplendent. Magical. Hemione wanted to savour the view, but Hagrid wasn't having it.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Hermione and Neville climbed into a boar with Harry and Ron, although Hermione took a moment longer for worry that the boat would tip.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had an entire boat to himself, "Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, glidding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads an the little boats carried through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff.

They didn't really need to duck, but Hagrid did and most student felt like they might get caught up by the ivy if they didn't. They were carried along a dark tunnel which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out on the rocks and pebbles.

Then they followed Hagrid up a passageway in the rock, following the big giant's lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak from door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Then 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 fitted the whole of the Dursleys' house 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," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, 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 honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber and whispers floated up around her. Hermione felt like glaring at all of them for not obeying the Professor. She'd said to wait 'quietly'.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron in front of her, earning her attention.

"Some sort of test, I think."

Hermione's heart stopped. A test? In front of the whole school? What if she failed? Would she still be sorted? She looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified too. Harry's eyes met hers and they shared a moment of awful panic. She'd never been more nervous, and kept her eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead her to either her doom or her salvation.

Then something happened that made Hermione give out a small shriek.

"What the –?"

She gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other 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.

"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."

Hermione took a deep calming breath. This was it. She needed to prove herself, needed to be sorted right. She didn't know how they sorted, but she needed to make sure Professor Snape didn't regret taking her on. With jittery legs she followed as Professor McGonagall led them back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Hermione had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air 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. Hermione saw Harry looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars and whispered, "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. Her heart warmed and her spirit lifted just to see it. The tension she'd felt upon hearing it might be a test faded and instead she gave a small, happy smile. It felt like heaven.

She walked right past the twins who both gave her massive grins. She shyly looked away, and upon skimming the hall her eyes landed on Professor Snape who sat right at the front. He wasn't looking at her, but having him there strangely heartened her just as much as the encouraging smiles of the twins.

Her group stopped and Professor McGonagall went ot stand next to a small four-legged stool with one old, brown wizarding hat resting on top. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Was she going to transfigure it? She was the Transfiguration Professor, after all.

For a few seconds there was silence, everyone in the Hall staring at the hat just as she was. 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 folks 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!"

All around her the existing students gave the hat thunderous applause while Hermione stood stock still in a new sense of anxiety. What if the Hat wouldn't know where to put her and she ended up alone? Everyone had their virtues, but bravery, cunning, wit, loyal? She felt none of those things. Her strengths were being loud and being annoying, any of her classmates would tell. Would the hat would see her mind and think her a terrible person? It may be silly to care about the opinions of a hat, but she was a muggleborn; maybe he was a magical creature, with a little hat family and hat wife and had a life outside of being, well, a hat.

The hat bowed to each of the table and then went still on the stool. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long rolled scroll, the kind that made Hermione itch to touch. Maybe she'd be in Ravenclaw. It seemed to be the bookworm House.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit in the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A horribly pink, nervous girl with pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table on the right clapped and cheered as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Hermione saw her robes change upon the Hat's pronouncement, switching from plain black to her house's yellow. That's what the robes were waiting for. Hopefully that would get rid of the tingle.

So the sorting continued.

The group was whittled away one by one, each person receiving a house at varying speeds. People like Neville took longer, making the room hold their breath. Some, like Malfoy, were Sorted before they'd even fully sat on the stool. Harry, the boy she'd met earlier, was apparently Harry Potter. She only knew what was in the History book her dad had picked up, but it was enough to know he important to wizarding culture. He went to Gryffindor.

It didn't go unnoticed by her that she'd been skipped alphabetically. Neville had seemed confused, but she knew what was going to happen. She was going to be a spectacle. And – in a strange way, one that made her feel ashamed – she was vaguely proud.

So she stood there as more and more students were sorted, getting even more excited as each student passed and even more curious what would happen with the Hat. Each student left the stool looking disconcerted, like something momentous had occurred during their Sorting. She wanted to find out.

Finally, McGonagall paused with only Hermione standing there. Dumbledore stood behind the staff table and raised his hand to the group.

"The Sorting Ceremony is nearly complete," his grandfatherly voice washed over the masses, seemingly amplified. "Our last student is not, however, a first-year. Because of her experience and the recommendations of our staff, Miss Hermione Granger will be joining the third-year class. I trust our older students will welcome her wherever she may be Sorted."

When he sat again, the murmuring was only interrupted by McGonagall.

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione didn't hesitate, and she definitely didn't want to be slow and even more of a show. She run-skipped to the stool and put the Hat on her head despite the nerves, and eagerly awaited her pronouncement.

'Hmmm …' the hat was in her head, murmuring his thoughts. Hermione suddenly understood; the hat wasn't just reading them and placing them, it was talking to them. 'Aren't you the independent one? Too independent for your own liking though; you want to have friends, belong somewhere, have someone to rely on. Being moved to third year is a dream for you, but you're afraid. Afraid of being alone in your accomplishment. Well, any house would provide you some measure of what you seek. Hufflepuff perhaps, for they would understand your desire for unity and love. Yet … too discerning for Hufflepuff. Your mind, thirsty for explanations, for knowledge, for … judgement. A good Ravenclaw trait, but the thirst doesn't come just from curiousity, oh, no. You want to be special.'

Hermione shut her eyes, though that didn't help with the voice. It had found it, the thing that made her a bad person. She wanted people to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at her, wanted them to know without even meeting her who she was. Often she had fantasized about the Queen one day sending a carriage for her and bringing her to Buckingham Palace for some award, or Heavenly Father patting her head and telling her how good she'd been.

'Yes, quite a Slytherin trait,' the hat continued. 'So much of a need to prove yourself. To 'let your light so shine before men' as your head keeps throwing about. You admire a Slytherin as well, don't you? Professor Snape was one I remember quite well, you know. He desperately wanted to go to Gryffindor, but that was not an option for the boy. For you, though, you could be a Gryffindor. But you're afraid, afraid that the Professor will hate you for being one and afraid the Weasley twins will hate you if you're not.'

Hermione nodded and whispered, lightly, "I don't want anyone to hate me."

'A Hufflepuff sentiment, for sure. But while you're afraid, you are also determined to do your best wherever you go. A good Gryffindor trait, the best.'

She became aware of the murmurings in the hall. Her head had been under the hat for a while now, and the students seemed to be speculating where she'd go after such a long time. She closed her eyes again.

'Why are you taking so long?'

'Anyone could go anywhere in this school,' the Sorting Hat confided in her. 'I have the impossible task of determining where they'll most likely succeed. You, however, are difficult to place because you will want to succeed wherever you go. Hufflepuff will cater to your kindness and teach you gentility, Ravenclaw would hone your mind and teach you wisdom, Gryffindor would welcome your honesty and fair heart but would teach you to act, and Slytherin would encourage your dreams and give you the tools to make them a reality. All things you could equally stand to learn.'

As he explained, she thought about all of the things he mentioned. They all were lessons she'd been told to learn in the church, but that she just couldn't seem to do. She wanted to be more gentle, but she was loud and overly honest. She wanted to act more, but she sometimes remembered to be afraid of stepping on toes. Her dreams though … they were unrealistic and selfish, so she should refuse Slytherin House.

'They could use you, though,' the Hat countered. 'The Professor's house, and so many things you could learn from Slytherin.'

But she could learn anywhere, and that's what the hat had told her.

'Well done,' the Sorting Hat said to that thought. 'So you can be decisive, not simply impulsive. Then so can I. Better be-'

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The hat said the last word aloud to the raucous applause of the Hall. She was so relieved to be done she took a moment to figure out the Weasley twins were standing up cheering and waving her over. She gave them an excited grin and ran over to them with red-trimmed robes flaring behind her. She wished she could give them a hug, but wasn't sure if it was welcome so instead sat in the seat they made for her.

"You're with us, now!"

"You're going to fit right in, Granger," George added.

The Headmaster had got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms open 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 and Hermione clapped and cheered with the raucous twins. She loved anyone so weird they didn't care about other peoples' opinions. It was fun to see people so free. Like Fred and George.

"Is he always like this?" Hermione inquired.

"Yeah, he's a right genius," he laughed. "A little mad too, but great!"

A sudden tingle of magic took over her body and she looked around, startled. The table seemed to grow food and empty spaces suddenly were filled with foods of all sorts – hams, roasts, fruit and vegetable dishes of all kinds – and Hermione gaped at it.

"I know, it's great, right?" Fred was scooping dishes left and right. "Hurry up, it disappears just as quick."

Hermione bolted into action and put two scoops of mashed potatoes on her plate and poured the gravy so quickly it spilled on the table before she noticed Fred and George were chortling.

"Sorry, but-"

"It doesn't disappear."

"We just like pulling one over."

That's the moment the Weasley twins discovered the infamous Hermione look (which had only been previously used on close relatives). It was a look of womanly disapproval and resentment. Not anger, not yet, but they hadn't earned true anger. Still, the Weasley twins put their hands up.

"Don't shoot!"

That broke her. Hermione turned and giggled as she continued piling her plate. "You two aren't boring, I guess. But you're wiping up that gravy."

She felt eyes on her, specific ones that didn't follow the rules of the masses that had looked at ger for being moved to third-year. Her eyes moved on their own and met with the Potions Master in question, black meeting amber eyes to convey her worry and his acceptance. She breathed a sigh of relief to see Professor Snape nod at her and then turn back to his plate.

She finished portioning the rest of her plate evenly. Hermione LOVED mashed potatoes far too much, so she made half of the rest of her plate brussel sprouts and the other half a slice of the roast, placing four Yorkshire puddings around her plate like a little bready crown. The twins laughed at her polite little plate organization and she made faces at how they mashed half of the foods together on their plate.

Then a spectral white form seemed to rise through the table. She could only watch as the room filled with ghosts of all kind, hovering and flying over the ghost closest to her decided to introduce himself with a tip of his head … literally. His head was attached by a thin piece of skin and so he pulled it off to a ninety degree angle and Hermione felt like screaming.

Above them all, the teachers ate and observed. Severus let himself enjoy the reactions from the new students – muggleborn and pureblood alike – when the ghosts popped in to introduce themselves. The children shrieked, giggled, hid – the full gambit – but he was watching for specific children.

Draco, his godson, turned completely pale at the appearance of the Baron, and Severus could tell he'd finished eating the feast before him. He had always been a delicate child, refusing to eat when upset to hide the fact that he vomited easily when upset. It had always caused Cissa unbearable stress. His turn, then, to handle the child. He would speak with him tonight.

Then his eyes shifted again to the muggleborn Miss Granger. It was not strange for children to seek his approval once they'd received his scorn in classes, but for their Sorting? Yet she had looked to him for comfort in being a Gryffindor. The fear in her eyes said it all; someone had told the girl of his disposition in his Gryffindor classes and wanted his silent promise that it would not be so with her. Severus had agreed.

Now she was sat with the Weasley twins, her eyes focused entirely on her plate of food as if she couldn't bear to look at the ghosts around her. Her eyes seemed to be glistening, even as the twins tried juggling her Yorshire puddings to cheer her up. What was the girl thinking?

He leaned over to Minerva, subtly, and prompted her to follow his gaze to her table.

"Oh, Nicholas," Minerva huffed. "I see her. If she is not well by tonight I will be addressing it."

"There's always one," he dropped a piece of pork loin into his mouth. A little chewy, but the elves knew how to do their flavours. "You have a couple of hat-stalls this year."

"Strange how they seem to nearly always go to Gryffindor," she gave him side-eye, but lessened it with a pursed look towards her table. "I wonder where the hat considered putting young Neville before he followed in his parents' footsteps."

"Hufflepuff," Snape sneered, earning a glare from the witch. "Did you see him shaking on the stool? That boy needs to be coddled."

McGonagall sniffed. "Well then, what of Miss Granger?"

His shoulders rolled into a shrug. "How should I know? I thought the girl would be a Gryffindor from the start."

"It was probably Ravenclaw," she ignored his smug tone. "She is a wonderfully clever girl."

Severus looked back over to the girl. Her fork was fending off Weasley fingers trying to get to her food, and she was at least smiling again now.

"We'll see."