10.

The door swung open at once. Standing on the other side was Minerva McGonagall, tall and strict best in her emerald green robes. I offered her a small smile and she gave a brief nod to me, not breaking professionalism.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door open wide. The entrance hall was huge, the ceiling too high to make out, the walls stone lit with flaming torches like at Gringotts. A magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors. Off to the side was a table set with four large hourglasses: one sported rubies, one emeralds, one sapphires, and one great pieces of yellow topaz.

Professor McGonagall - it was impossible right now to think of her as anything else - led us across the flagged stone floor. We could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to our right - the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall instead led us into a small side chamber off the main entrance hall. We gathered in there, huddling rather closer together than we usually would have, 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 you 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."

She paused, gazing at us for a moment, and then left the chamber. I knew what this would entail - I had to try on a talking, mind reading hat - but I was still silent and nervous, and so was everyone else. What if I wasn't good enough for any of the houses? What if I never made any friends? I told myself it was just my abuse history making me think that way.

Then several people behind me screamed. I whirled around - and watched, fascinated, as about twenty ghosts streamed through the back wall. Pearly white, floating, and transparent, they crossed the hall, speaking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing over whether a spirit named Peeves - who was not really a ghost - should be banned from the school because he was giving all the other Hogwarts spirits a bad name.

Apparently, Hogwarts was possessed by spirits. And that just added to the awesome. I was not only going to live in a complex, enchanted castle, I was going to live in a haunted, complex, enchanted castle! This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me!

Finally, the ghosts seemed to notice us. They were quite friendly to the first years, and I gathered that they each remained with the Hogwarts house they'd been Sorted into during their own lifetime. At last, Professor McGonagall returned and told the ghosts sharply to move along, as the Sorting Ceremony was about to start. The ghosts floated through the opposing wall obediently and into the Great Hall.

"Now, form a line," said Professor McGonagall, "and follow me."

Nervous, trying to remember the breathing and positive self talk exercises I'd learned from Madam Pomfrey, I got into line. We walked out of the side chamber, back across the Hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Thousands of candles floated, lit, over four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. The faces flickered pale in the candlelight, ghosts shining misty silver among them, the students' black Hogwarts robes in sharp relief. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. I could see Hagrid and Madam Pomfrey up here, Dumbledore with his long silver beard in the center of the table in a large gold chair, and also sitting at the staff table was a large number of people I didn't recognize.

Professor McGonagall led us to the top of the hall, in a line facing the other students, the teachers behind us. I looked up, mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, and saw a midnight blue ceiling dotted with stars. It wasn't painted. A know it all girl with frizzy hair and crooked teeth, who had been whispering annoyingly her knowledge of magic and everything to do with Hogwarts since we had entered the entrance hall (even though I thought I remembered from the Hogwarts Express that she was a Muggleborn, and therefore might be trying to compensate for some sort of self consciousness), whispered now, "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 strange and splendid Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens. Hogwarts itself was huge - the biggest place I had ever been in, both in terms of magnificence and also quite literally.

I quickly looked 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, frayed, patched, and dirty wizard's hat. I was skeptical. This was the great Hogwarts Sorting Hat?

Then a rip near the Hat's brim opened wide like a mouth, and the Hat began to sing. Yes, that's right. 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!

The whole hall burst into applause as the Hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four house tables and then became quite still again.

I had mixed feelings. Did we really have to be Sorted in front of the entire school? What if the Sorting Hat did reject you? Did it blurt out the contents of your mind in front of everyone? My worries were somewhat assuaged as the Sorting began. What essentially happened was this:

The names were called in alphabetical order based on last name, by Professor McGonagall from a long scroll. The person called would come over, sit down on the stool, and place the Sorting Hat on their head. There was a pause - sometimes whole minutes, sometimes a few seconds. Then the Hat would at last call out the name of a house. That house would cheer and clap as a new student went with relief to sit at their table and join their ranks. Round faced, clumsy Neville Longbottom and the know it all girl with the frizzy hair both went to Gryffindor, for example.

Nobody was rejected. Everyone was assigned some house.

I took deep breaths, my fists clenching and unclenching themselves, until at last my name was called. "Potter, Quintus!" As I stepped forward, whispers filled the Great Hall, everyone craning their heads to get a good look at me. I sat down on the stool, placed the Sorting Hat on my head - it fell right down over my eyes - and I waited.

I was strangely calm, now that it was all happening. There was nothing to do but wait.

"Hmm," said a small voice in my ear, "difficult, very difficult. You have the sort of carelessness of the rules and of your good reputation that would befit a Slytherin, along with their instinctive attraction to darkness and their unusual calm. You are ambitious, also like a Slytherin, and not incredibly arrogant.

"Yet you have the cleverness, desire of information, and instinctive moral compass more befitting of a Ravenclaw. You are attracted to the unknown, like a Ravenclaw, and you believe in camouflage and trickery over overt cheating, also like a Ravenclaw. You hide yourself often, remain neutral, but are not afraid of confrontation.

"You have changed a lot in recent months, Quintus Potter. Harry Potter and Quintus Potter are two entirely different people with two entirely different Sorting layouts. No, I cannot. I refuse to choose. I DECLARE A HATSTALL!"

The Hat was jerked off my head as the last words were shouted to the whole Hall. "Does that mean I have to go home?" I asked Minerva, gazing up at her worriedly.

She smiled. "No, Quintus, it means you are caught between two houses. I was a Hatstall myself. Come see myself and Professor Dumbledore."

I stood, all too aware of the whispers and all the eyes on me, and I walked up nervously to Professor Dumbledore at the High Table. He, myself, and Professor McGonagall all bent forward to have a whispered discussion.

"So. First you get a wand with the same core as Lord Voldemort's but a wood that indicates not only great power but also enormous tolerance and open mindedness, and then you are made a Hatstall, Quintus?" Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled in amusement behind his spectacles.

"How did you know -?" I wondered.

"Ollivander is a great friend of mine."

I paused, torn. "I'm sorry, sir," I said at last. "About the thing with Rita Skeeter. I didn't mean to make everyone hate you; I don't resent you or anything."

"It's quite alright, Quintus. Glad to hear it. It's not the first time my decisions have been questioned, and it won't be the last," said Dumbledore kindly. "As I understand it, you have led a difficult life. And I think most people would do anything in the face of someone as fearsome as Rita Skeeter," he added wryly. "No offense has been taken."

I relaxed. "Thank you, sir. Now, what to do about a Hatstall?"

"Well, with Hatstalls we have just started in recent years a house exchange program, to foster greater inter-house unity. You would alternate between the two houses from week to week. You would have beds in both dormitories, and your trunk and things would be moved magically for you at the end of each week. You would alternate between houses during great feasts. Your two heads of houses would have to confer with each other about appropriate punishments. When you win or lose points, they will be added equally to or subtracted equally from both houses.

"You would see both common rooms and dormitories, and feast with both houses, on your first night. For your first week, you would spend half of it with one house, and half of it with the other. Your tie and the emblem on your robes would be half and half.

"Or, alternately, you could just choose one house over the other.

"What will it be, Quintus?"

"I like the idea of the exchange program, Professor," I said seriously. "I want to make lots of friends in both houses."

Here, Dumbledore beamed at me. "I hoped you would say that! Now -" He turned to the Sorting Hat. "Which two houses have we decided on?"

"The boy's going to shake things up, Albus. The two houses are Ravenclaw and Slytherin," said the Hat seriously.

Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted. But he stood gamely, and announced to the Hall, "Quintus Potter has chosen to participate in the Inter-House exchange program! His two houses will be Ravenclaw and Slytherin! He will feast with Ravenclaw for the first half of the meal, and Slytherin for the second half! He will spend Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday with Ravenclaw, and Thursday and Friday with Slytherin!"

I was pretty sure I was the only one listening by that point. The Great Hall seemed to have temporarily gone insane. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were cheering, other students were shouting in disbelief, and the teachers were staring at me in utter surprise.

"Quintus," said Dumbledore brightly to me, "meet your two heads of house: Filius Flitwick and Severus Snape!" The little old man beamed and waved brightly. A hook-nosed man with greasy black hair and sallow skin - young to middle aged - was staring at me in surprise and discernment. I hoped I looked good. Everything from my haircut to my robes to my lack of glasses had been tailor-made so that I didn't look like I had before.

"Which one is which?" I muttered to Dumbledore.

"The black haired man is Professor Snape, and he heads Slytherin. The older and smaller man is Professor Flitwick, and he heads Ravenclaw," said Dumbledore. "And now it is time for you to go sit with Ravenclaw house. Over there." He pointed at one of the cheering tables.

I stepped away from the High Table. Minerva placed a hand on my shoulder, looking torn. "Take courage, Quintus," she murmured, "and stick to what you believe in."

I was left uncertain as I walked over to Ravenclaw house table. They were still cheering madly - I was getting the loudest cheer yet - and a buff and muscular Prefect got up to shake my hand. "Robert Hilliard, at you service," he said. "Your head Prefect and a Chaser on the Ravenclaw house Quidditch team. We are by far the cleverest house, so of course you'd come to us," he added arrogantly. "That is our house ghost, The Grey Lady."

He pointed at the ghost of a reserved, pretty woman with long hair and a long, grand dress.

"That over there is the Slytherin house ghost, The Bloody Baron, and your main Slytherin Prefect, Gemma Farley." The ghost was a gaunt man covered in silver blood stains and chains. The Prefect was an older girl with black hair and many tattoos and piercings. She smirked at me and gave me a jaunty, sarcastic little wave. I waved uncertainly back.

I sat down at the table and looked down at my chest. My tie was a weird blend of green and silver on one side, blue and bronze on the other. My emblem was half of an eagle, half of a coiled serpent.

I watched the rest of the Sorting take place. It took several minutes for the Hall to calm down and for the Sorting to continue. At long last, when the last student had been Sorted, Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Dumbledore stood to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see us all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! 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. I was dryly amused. He may be controversial and a bit mad, but I decided I couldn't help liking Albus Dumbledore at least a little. He was just too delightfully weird, which I had the suspicious feeling he would take as the highest compliment.

Then the food appeared suddenly on the plates and all previous thoughts were forgotten. The feast was magnificent, lots of filling meat and potato dishes cooked in a wonderful array of ways, and I dug in immediately.

I started chatting with the students closest to me.

"Terry Boot, at your service," said a thin brown-haired boy, saluting.

"Anthony Goldstein," said a Jewish Italian boy with an open, friendly smile.

"And I'm Padma Patil," said an Indian girl, serious and reserved.

"You're one of the twins who was Sorted," I noted curiously. "Your sister went to Gryffindor."

"Yes. It's disappointing, but -" Padma shrugged. "You can't have everything in life."

"Many of my family members live in America. Some of them wanted me to go to Ilvermorny - the American school," Terry added when I stared blankly. "It's pretty controversial that I'm even here at Hogwarts."

"I'm a Halfblood," said Anthony, "and not exactly of the traditional white nature-based belief system on top of that. I was wondering if I'd even get in here."

"I'm not white either." Padma shrugged stoically. "You don't see me getting self conscious."

"You all know way too much about me already," I joked. "You're probably sick of it by now."

"Do you remember anything - you know, of the night of?" Terry added curiously, as if he could not help himself.

I was uncomfortable. "Little bits and fragments. Nothing concrete. I don't know how I survived, if that's what you're asking."

"What a thing to ask him on his first night!" Padma scolded, and Anthony laughed and I smiled in amusement as Padma threw a potato at Terry.

He ducked out of the way. "Hey!" he said indignantly.

We then turned to Robert Hilliard, who was giving Ravenclaws the ins and outs of surviving their first week of classes with top marks. I listened avidly.

At last, the remains of the food faded from the plates and the desserts appeared. Ice cream, pie, tart, jello, pudding, doughnuts, the treats never ended. "That's my cue, I think," I said, and I stood and walked from Ravenclaw to Slytherin, all too aware of many eyes on me. To my relief, other, older students were doing the same. There weren't many of us, but at least I wasn't the first one.

The Slytherin first years made room for me and I sat down among them. "Finally!" said a pale boy with white blond hair impatiently.

Gemma Farley leaned over and shook my hand. "Gemma Farley," she said. "And congratulations for getting a chance to walk on the wild side a little. Anyone picks on you about your family, you let me know." She winked, not even seeming to notice the way a few first years - not all, but a few - sneered faintly.

"Yes, thank you," I said, and when she'd retreated the blond boy sighed loudly. The big boys on either side of the blond chuckled.

"What she means," he clarified, "is that Slytherin is the house for the Pureblooded."

"But that can't be true, can it?" I asked, puzzled. "My maternal grandparents were Muggles, I was raised by Muggles, and I was Sorted in here. Ambition and cunning are not solely Pureblood traits."

The blond boy flushed, his eyes narrowing, and a handsome dark-haired Italian boy chuckled. "Logic," he said, "Draco Malfoy's greatest enemy."

"Don't insult Draco!" shrieked a girl with a face like a pug who had been gazing at Draco admiringly.

"What do you know, anyway, Zabini?" Draco sneered at the dark-haired boy.

"Enough to agree with the Boy Who Lived, apparently," said the dark-haired boy in dry amusement. "Blaise Zabini." He nodded to me. "Congratulations on not just getting caught up in house rumors or the stupid ideology of one house." I decided I liked Blaise Zabini.

"Thank you," I said, watching the goings-on with reserved caution.

"Look." Draco turned to me determinedly. I thought I remembered him now - he'd practically swaggered up to the Sorting Hat. "You should just switch to Slytherin. It's clearly the best house in the school. And I wouldn't talk too much about your Muggle relatives, if I were you." He shrugged. "Just a piece of friendly advice."

I was watching him sharply. "Thanks for the advice," I said after a moment. "But I choose not to ignore my mother or her background, if it's all the same."

Draco sneered, going a bit pink.

"Oh, Draco, do stop being dreadful," a blonde girl with green eyes sighed, coming to my defense. "Daphne Greengrass," she told me. "And not all Slytherins or even all Purebloods are like Draco Malfoy. Your family is fine."

"Yeah, but he hates it, doesn't he?" Draco sat back, smirking. "He's said so."

A reserved boy with brown curls and glasses spoke up clinically. "So because I hate my father, you think I should pretend he doesn't exist? Theo Nott," he told me flatly. "My father supported the man who killed your family."

My eyebrows rose. Draco Malfoy told Theo to do something very rude while the two thugs on either side of him cracked their knuckles and scowled. The pug-faced girl was glaring, as was the posse of girls I could see gathered around her, and Daphne Greengrass and Blaize Zabini rolled their eyes. Theo Nott looked unimpressed.

At last, Gemma Farley came over. "Hey! No fighting between house mates," she snapped. "We're Slytherins and we treat each other like family! We support each other, even when no one else in the school likes us! You got that? If I ever see any of you fighting with each other, I will put a stop to it." She glared and left. Draco Malfoy looked mutinous.

But just then, the desserts faded away and Dumbledore got to his feet again. The whole hall fell silent. "Muggle-lover," Draco Malfoy muttered, glaring at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore gave several announcements: The forest and the lake on the grounds were forbidden to all pupils, because of dangerous magical creatures within. Mr Filch, the janitor and caretaker, wanted to remind everyone that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials would be held in the second week of term; anyone second year and above 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 very painful death."

I stared, and I wasn't the only one. A dead silence fell on the Great Hall. Albus Dumbledore smiled whimsically.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. I noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and a long golden ribbon flew out of it. The ribbon rose above the tables and twisted itself, snake-like, into words.

"You've got to be kidding me," Draco Malfoy was heard to say.

"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.

It was a bizarre song, and everyone finished singing it at different times. At last, only a mischievous pair of red-headed teenage boys at the Gryffindor table 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!"

Gemma Farley found me in the crowds rushing out the double doors. "I'll show you Slytherin," she said, "then take you up to the entrance hall and hand you off to Hilliard until Thursday."

I went with the first year Slytherins out of the Great Hall, into the entrance hall, and down a staircase instead of up one. We traveled down into cold stone, past countless dungeons complete with chains and manacles, until we finally arrived at a blank patch of stone wall.

"The password changes every week," said Gemma. "Never let anyone except a fellow Slytherin behind this wall. The password this week is: Amortentia."

The stone wall slid aside and we entered a long, low underground room, rather like a dungeon, with rough stone walls and ceiling. Round, greenish lamps hung from chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece decorated with green-eyed serpents ahead of us, and green carved chairs were set around it. The latticed high windows around the common room showed a view of what had to be the Black Lake, which made quiet lapping water noises against the walls and gave everything a dark, greenish tinge. Even as I watched, silhouettes appeared at the windows: a mermaid, a giant squid.

"We like to pretend we live in a mysterious underwater shipwreck," said Gemma proudly.

There was lots of low-backed black leather sofas and dark green button-tufted leather sofas. There were skulls, and dark wood cupboards. Tapestries featuring the adventures of famous medieval Slytherins decorated the walls. An elaborate chess set sat in a corner next to two burning, flickering candles dripping wax.

"The new password will be there on the bulletin board every week," said Gemma, pointing. "Now let me show you to your dormitories." She led us down a corridor off the main common room.

The first year Slytherin boys' dormitory room was another dark stone room; it had several four-poster beds with green silk hangings. Silver lanterns hung from the ceiling, and Slytherin crests and famous medieval Slytherin acts tapestries once more decorated the walls.

"Quintus," said Gemma from outside in the corridor, "come with me." The other Slytherin boys watched curiously as I walked outside and was led back out of the Slytherin common room, back out of the dungeons, and up the main staircase the entrance hall.

"See you on Thursday," said Gemma, nodding, handing me off to Robert Hilliard, who was waiting. He, instead, led me up the main marble staircase to the upper floors. We walked down corridors and up staircases, past paneled walls, past moving and whispering paintings, past tapestries and statues, past suits of armor. Once an invisible spirit swished over our heads, cackling and dropping marbles all over us that clattered to the floor.

"Peeves," said Robert Hilliard, his lips tight with displeasure, once the spirit had passed. "The resident mischievous Poltergeist. The Gryffindors must have irritated him again."

We walked and walked, twice going behind tapestries or sliding panels to a hidden door within, skipping over trick stairs, making our complex, winding way up several flights of stairs until we finally reached a twisting spiral staircase set into a wall.

We made our tight, winding way up the staircase, until we reached a door with a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Robert knocked with the knocker, and the eagle opened its mouth and issued a silvery female voice.

"Who is the hero, the dragon or he who slays it?"

Robert turned to me. "What do you think, Quintus?"

I thought for a moment. "It depends on which perspective you're looking at," I said at last.

"Well reasoned," said the eagle, and the door swung open magically on its own to let us through.

"The knocker gives you a riddle to solve every time you want to walk into Ravenclaw Tower," said Robert. "And you have to wait in front of the door until someone gets it right. You'll get used to it," he added when I looked worried. "All first years do. It's actually a nice way to meet fellow house members. You're a Ravenclaw; you'll figure it out. But always triple check you have everything you need before you leave Ravenclaw Tower."

We walked into the common room, which was a wide, circular, airy room with arched windows covered in blue and bronze silks. The bluish-purplish silks fluttered; wind whistled softly around the windows, which must in the daytime give a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. That we were in a tower; that much was obvious. I could have guessed without Robert telling me.

A little wood fire stove flickered with firelight, several foot stools and blue chairs set around it. There was a midnight blue carpet covered with stars, which was reflected in the domed ceiling. There were chairs set around study tables, and countless bookcases filled with books. I spied a book rental signup sheet on the common room bulletin board. A tall white marble statue of a beautiful woman stood beside a staircase further up into one of the turrets.

"That's our house founder, Rowena Ravenclaw," said Robert, noticing where I was looking.

"Who was the Slytherin founder?" I wondered.

"Salazar Slytherin, a man," said Robert simply. "Now follow me." We walked up the turret staircase and down a corridor to the first year Ravenclaw boys' dormitory room. The four-poster beds this time were covered in blue silk eiderdowns.

Robert left me there and said goodnight, all the other Ravenclaw boys looking at me curiously, just as the Slytherin boys had.

Too tired to talk much, we pulled on our pajamas and climbed into bed - all of our things had already been brought up. With my beech and phoenix feather wand at my bedside, and Jada my Siamese cat curled beside me on my bed, I fell asleep to the peaceful sound of whistling wind.

Tomorrow would be my first official day at Hogwarts.