CHAPTER 2
After a cold yet beautiful boat journey across the black lake, my fellow first years and I arrived at Hogwarts Castle. The imposing architecture couldn't help but be admired. I couldn't wait to see it in daylight.
We entered the building and met Professor McGonagall; a stern but kindly looking lady, whom I knew to be the Head of Gryffindor House. She left us for a few moments to 'smarten ourselves up'. In that time, a platinum-blonde haired boy by the name of Draco Malfoy confronted Harry about not 'making friends with wrong sort'. However, he was quickly told off by the now returned McGonagall and we proceeded to the main hall.
If I had thought the exterior of Hogwarts was awe-inspiring, it was nothing compared to the interior. Thousands of floating candles were magically suspended above us, and the ceiling seemingly disappeared into the sky above. Behind me, Hermione whispered, "It's not real, the ceiling. It's just enchanted." At the front of the hall, a raised dais had the grand teachers' table on it. In front of that, a rickety, three-legged stool had an old, worn wizard's hat placed upon it.
The first years clumped together at the base of the dais, confused as to what to do next. Suddenly, an opening at the rim of the hat appeared, and it burst into song, explaining briefly what the houses were, and how the sorting worked. The hall burst into applause, before McGonagall read out the first names.
Hermione was called before me, and she nervously edged up to the stool. She was one of the longer sortings, and there were several moments of silent anticipation. Then, just before the impatient whispering broke out, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!", and Hermione skipped towards the central red table that had exploded into applause.
The next notable sorting was Harry Potter, the raven-haired boy we'd met on the train. His sorting didn't take nearly as long as Hermione's did, but there still enough time for the tension to build. That was, until the hat cried, "GRYFFINDOR!", and the table at which my friend sat erupted into the loudest cheers yet, with a pair of twins chanting, "We got Potter!"
The hall quietened down and the name before mine was called: Ron Weasley, the red-head from the train. He looked almost as nervous as Hermione had, but didn't have long to worry, as the hat almost instantly called out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Ron visibly relaxed, his shoulders sagging in relief, and joined his new house.
Then, came the moment of truth; my name was called. I stepped up to the stool, looked at the remaining three students, and the hat was placed on my head. "Charlotte Windsor, an interesting one," it told me. "Not a Slytherin, that's for sure, but suitable for everywhere else. Very intelligent, I see, but not you're most defining quality, so that rules out Ravenclaw. Very brave, and willing to prove yourself, but also exceptionally kind and loyal. Do you have any preference?"
"Not really, sir, but I would quite like to join my friends," I eyed Gryffindor hopefully.
"How can I refuse such a polite young lady? Better be GRYFFINDOR!"
Introductions happened after Dumbledore's (our head master) speech had been said, and the food had appeared on our tables. A boy named Seamus Finnigan said he was a half-blood, and Neville (who had also surprisingly ended up in Gryffindor) told us he was a pureblood. Ron introduced us to his brothers (also in Gryffindor) Fred and George, the twins shouting "We got Potter" earlier, and the Gryffindor Prefect, Percy. Harry said he had wizard parents but was raised by muggles, and Hermione told us she was muggleborn. Finally, I explained I was half-blood, but, like everyone else, glossed over most of my heritage. Luckily.
The feast eventually ended, and we were escorted to our common rooms, where we were shown the dormitories and we bagsied beds. I got one next to Hermione, and promptly owled my mother and grandfather, telling them about my new house, the sorting, and my new friends. I then quickly fell asleep, not even remembering to take off my robes.