Chapter 6
The Sorting Hat
The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a stern face; which immediately reminded Elizabeth of Mrs Weasley after her, Fred and George had pulled another prank. You did not want to mess with this witch. That being said, she also sensed an element of Molly's maternal nature was hidden behind that strict exterior. Elizabeth couldn't place why but she had the strange feeling that if she had any problems during her time at Hogwarts, this witch would be the first person she went to.
"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 Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder how many times the Burrow would fit in it; and probably still have room to spare. She couldn't help a chuckle, The Burrow wasn't exactly small itself.
The stone walls, of the Entrance Hall, were lit with flaming torches, just 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 McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Elizabeth could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right. It was the sound of the rest of the school and it cut a sharp contrast to the heavy silence hanging around the huddle of first years of which she was a part. However, this sound helped calm Elizabeth's nerves; Fred and George were in there somewhere and just knowing they were close made her feel safe.
McGonagall began leading them into a small empty chamber, just off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer than they usually would have. Some peering around with interest, others just 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 an important ceremony because, whilst you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts." Elizabeth chuckled to herself; if she ended up where she thought she was going to, McGonagall sure wasn't wrong. That house was made up of her family. To her it would just be like going home.
"You will have classes with the rest of your house, "McGonagall continued.
"You will 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 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. "
Elizabeth's eyes roamed her new classmates for a moment; she couldn't help but notice Neville's cloak which was haphazardly fastened under his left ear. A young, blonde girl with pigtails poked him to point it out, at which point he hastily shuffled it; only to end up with the fastening sitting nice and tidy, under his right ear.
Ron had finally noticed the dirt which had been situated on the corner of his nose since searching for Scabbers under the sofa that morning; and was now trying to furiously to scrub it off with a corner of his robe.
Elizabeth couldn't resist a quick peek at Harry who, in that moment, was attempting to try and get his hair to lay flat. She giggled to herself, it seemed he had inherited their fathers unruly tangles. Having seen pictures Elizabeth had always considered herself lucky to have inherited her mothers sleek waves, she had no doubt that, in that moment, Harry was fighting a losing battle.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber. Due to the close proximity of their tightly packed little group, Elizabeth couldn't help but overhear the conversation between… Ron and her brother? Harry and her brother? Her brother and her brother? She slapped her forehead in frustration. This was beginning to get silly.
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was only joking."
Elizabeth tried her hardest not to dissolve into fits of laughter. Fred and George had been creating a horrifying image of the sorting for Ron for years. Last year two people had 'apparently' lost limbs and one unfortunate soul had vanished completely, if Fred and George were to be believed. Thankfully, to her they weren't so cruel and it turned out the truth of the situation was much more mundane.
Elizabeth wondered who else's imaginations were running away from them and creating terrifying images of what the next hour might entail. The young girl she had met in Scrivenshafts, and more recently on the train, was whispering about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which one she might need. Elizabeth still didn't understand this girl and she had a feeling it was going to be one of those mysteries she had to solve; however much she should probably leave it well alone.
She kept her eyes on the door. Any minute now Professor McGonagall would come back and lead them to, what many seemed to be considering, their doom.
Then something happened which made them all jump about a foot in the air – several people screamed behind her.
About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Elizabeth took a moment to breathe and calm herself. She had been startled, but she had also spent the last eleven years living at the Burrow, which had a, surprisingly impossible to evict, ghoul living in the attic. Ghosts she could deal with.
Pearly-white and slightly transparent, the ghosts glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a rotund, little monk; which from conversations with the older Weasleys she assumed to be the Fat Friar; 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?" Elizabeth had heard the name Peeves many times. Peeves was Hogwarts resident poltergeist, and according to Fred and George, their partner in crime. She couldn't begin to think what he could have done to anger the other ghosts so much. Then she realised who she was talking about, and the list of things could've probably gone on longer than lecture about rules from Percy.
Above her the argument continued. "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 noticed the first years.
Nobody answered.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, "about to be sorted I suppose?"
A few people nodded silently.
"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," McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."
Feeling oddly calm, Elizabeth got into line behind Ron, the bushy haired girl from the train not far behind her. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the great hall.
Elizabeth had thought her first sight of Hogwarts would be the most amazing thing she saw that night. Right now, however, she was having an internal argument as to whether or not the Great Hall had it beat.
It was lit by thousands of candles which were hovering in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. Elizabeth caught a wink from George as she passed them. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting, protectively watching over their students.
Professor McGonagall led them on so they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, the teachers table behind them. The hundreds of faces staring up at them looked like pale lanterns flickering in the candlelight. Dotted here and there amongst the students, the ghosts shone misty white. The sheer number of eyes upon her did nothing to diminish Elizabeth's calm state. She looked around and saw many faces she knew, whether they were friends of her brothers; or children whose parents worked with Arthur at the ministry. Having so many familiar faces out there made her feel comfortable and she was ready to be sorted.
Looking around at their faces, however, she could not say the same for the rest of her future classmates.
Elizabeth looked up from where she stood, and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She heard the bushy haired girl whispering, to anyone who would listen, "It's bewitched to look like the night's sky, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
Elizabeth was re-evaluating her impression of this girl. Maybe she wasn't a mystery. Maybe she was just a bossy, know-it-all. She found herself hoping that whatever house this girl found herself in; she wasn't in the same one.
Professor McGonagall was now placing a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of it she placed a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was so patched and dirty it looked as though it had just been pulled out of the laundry basket at the Burrow. It could easily have been the one Mrs Weasley has re-stitched and patched, only to have it dragged away again every time, by Scabbers as a chew toy.
Everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, Elizabeth stared at it too. There was a few seconds of 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 Gryffindor 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!
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.
"So we've just got to try on a hat!" Ron whispered to her and Harry, who was on his other side. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll." Elizabeth snorted, a troll, she'd have to congratulate Fred for that one later. "Did you know about this?" Ron accused. She winked at him, and noticed Harry trying not to laugh, before returning her attention back to the sorting.
Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool, I will place the hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
The pink faced girl with blonde pigtails; who had earlier alerted Neville to his dishevelled state, stumbled out of line. McGonagall placed the hat on her head, which fell right down over her eyes. There was a momentary pause-
"Hufflepuff!" Shouted the hat.
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down with her new classmates; the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
"Bones, Susan!"
"Hufflepuff!" Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit alongside Hannah, Elizabeth joining in the applause for her friend.
"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, but "Brown, Lavender!" became the first new Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the twins catcalling, she was sure they practised before the sorting every year.
"Bulstrode, Millicent!" then became a Slytherin. Elizabeth had to concede that the Slytherins did themselves no favours when it came to their reputation; they did look a rather unpleasant lot.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" the young boy Elizabeth had shared the boat with headed to be sorted.
"Hufflepuff!"
Sometimes the hat seemed to shout the house almost at once but others took a little while to decide. For instance, "Finnegan, Seamus!" The Irish boy which had made up Elizabeth's boat; sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.
"Granger, Hermione!"
The bushy haired girl finally had a name. Hermione. Somehow it seemed to suit her. She almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly onto her head; Elizabeth waited for the result of her sorting with bated breath.
"Gryffindor!" The hat shouted. Ron groaned, it seemed he too had come to the same conclusion as her. All the Weasleys had been in Gryffindor for as long as they could remember, and they were determined not to ruin that run. For Elizabeth, though, it was more important as the same thing could be said for the Potters. However, seeing Hermione bound over to the Gryffindor table, her resolve was beginning to waver.
When "Longbottom, Neville!" the boy who kept losing his toad, 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 out "Gryffindor!" Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back, amid gales of laughter, to give it to "MacDougal, Morag!"
Draco Malfoy swaggered forth when he was called and was immediately sorted into Slytherin. Elizabeth had been expecting this and had to smirk at the daggers that were being thrown his way. Did they all really think he was going to be sorted into Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake? He was a Malfoy after all. Elizabeth wondered whether sometimes, everyone believing all Slytherins were evil was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
There weren't many people left now.
"Moon, Lily"… "Nott, Theodore"… "Parkinson, Pansy"… then a pair of twin girls, "Patil, Padma" and "Patil, Parvati"… then "Perks, Sally-Anne"… and then, at last-
"Potter, Elizabeth!"
Whispers suddenly broke out over the great hall, like hissing fires. Granted Elizabeth could hear the word 'Harry' in them more than anything else, but she found she wasn't particularly bothered; maybe George had got to her more than she thought.
She made her way to the stool, looking for one last reassuring look from the twins as she did. The last thing she saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the twins smiling faces staring back at her. The next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.
"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "Interesting, yes, interesting. A Weasley and a Potter I see, I should know just where to put you. And yet… there is something else there. A desire for acknowledgement. You wish to be recognised. Not as a Potter…no. Nor a Weasley. But as Elizabeth. Hmm… is that desire strong enough? Where to put you?"
Elizabeth had fear shoot through her veins and all of a sudden, almost unconsciously, she found herself thinking 'not Slytherin'.
"Really… you would certainly make your own name there dear, make no mistake!"
'Not Slytherin' she thought defiantly.
"Hmm…. Well I guess if that's what you want. I must admit I am interested to see how you turn out Miss Potter. Interesting. Yes most definitely interesting."
There was silence, as if the hat was toying with her and then–
"Gryffindor!"
Before the hat was removed from her head the Gryffindor table exploded. She got up of the stool and found herself thanking McGonagall before running down to be picked up by none other than George Weasley.
"Knew you could do it, Izzy." He shouted over the din. She finally found the floor again, hugged her remaining brothers and shook a few hands before taking a seat across from Hermione for the sorting to continue. As she did however she caught the eye of the giant Hagrid, who seemed to be looking at her as though he had seen a ghost. She sent him a small smile and turned her attention back to the sorting in time to hear the words-
"Potter, Harry!"
The whispers which had started when she was called were nothing compared to the buzz that began at Harry's name. He nervously made his way to the stool and the hat was placed on his head as a hall full of people craned to get a look at him.
They waited.
She could see harry gripping the edge of the stool, knuckles turning white. Finally, the hat shouted-
"Gryffindor!"
Once again the Gryffindor table erupted. Listening to Fred and George yell, "We got potter! We got potter!" Elizabeth couldn't help but smile, she found herself standing up and joining in with the applause as Harry shook Percy's hand and took his rightful place, next to her, at the Gryffindor table.
The whole hall seemed to be celebrating Harry's sorting, except, Elizabeth was surprised to see, the giant Hagrid who was still staring at her and who seemed to be… crying. She put it out of her mind and turned back to the sorting. She must have been imagining things.
There was now only three people left to be sorted. "Turpin, Lisa!" became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now and Elizabeth couldn't help but chuckle at how much he looked like a backwards carrot. She silently crossed her fingers under the table and, with a grin, noticed Harry doing the same. A second later the hat shouted "Gryffindor!"
Elizabeth hooted and hollered with the twins while Harry applauded loudly as Ron collapsed onto the bench next to him.
"Well done, Ron, excellent!" said Percy pompously across the table. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
"Zabini, Blaise!" became a Slytherin and the sorting was over. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and a man whose name was commonplace in any wizarding household, got to his feet. He was beaming at them all, his arms open wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to another 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. Elizabeth applauded along with them and giggled at Harry's obvious confusion; it was clear he was arguing with himself whether or not to laugh. She had been visited a few times by Dumbledore, since the day she had been left on the Weasleys doorstep. She was well aware what an eccentric, old fool Dumbledore was; but he was one that she would… almost… trust with her life. Nothing he did or said surprised her anymore.
As she turned back to the table, she couldn't help but gasp. The once empty dishes that sat in front of them were now piled high with food. Elizabeth would never deny that Mrs Weasley knew how to put on a spread, but this was like nothing she had ever seen before: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, mashed potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, thanks to the headmasters love for muggle confectionery, Mint Humbugs.
Elizabeth dove straight for these tangy little sweets, and pocketed a few for later. A few eccentricities wasn't the only thing she had picked up from Dumbledore's sparse but memorable visits.
"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.
"Can't you-?" Harry asked him, not really knowing how to word the rest of that question.
"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. Well now, I don't believe I have introduced myself properly. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor tower."
"I know who you are!" said Ron. "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 swiftly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnegan interrupted.
"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if this little chat wasn't going at all the way he had planned.
"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 too good a job of it. Elizabeth looked at the horrified expressions on the faces of her fellow house mates. She rolled her eyes.
"You did ask," she said as their eyes decreased and hanging mouths closed. Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, and sent her a grateful smile, which she returned before turning back to her lamb chops and mashed potato.
"So- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help win the house championship this year? Gryffindor has never gone so long without winning. Slytherin have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron was becoming almost unbearable- he's the Slytherin ghost."
Elizabeth laughed at Malfoy's face as she looked at the Slytherin table. Sitting next to him was a rather terrifying looking ghost, with blank starring eyes, a gaunt face and robes stained with silver blood. It was clear Malfoy was not at all happy with these seating arrangements.
"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus. Elizabeth was beginning to get the sense that this boy's curiosity, might just be his downfall.
"I've never asked," said 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 puddings appeared. Blocks of ice-cream in every flavour you could think of (Including Lemon Sherbet which was rumoured to be a particular favourite of the headmaster), apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…
As Elizabeth and Harry both got tangled on the way to the treacle tart, the talk turned to families.
"I'm half and half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
Everyone laughed.
"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked.
"Well, my Gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but my family thought I was a 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 tea and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by my 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 so happy. You should have seen their faces when I got in here- they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Uncle Algie was so pleased, he even brought me my toad."
"Elizabeth?" Seamus asked, the boy was at it again. Elizabeth put down the piece of treacle tart she was holding and thought about it for a second. Without knowing it, she already had the perfect answer. She could see George waiting for her reply anxiously.
"Well, I have seven brothers and one sister. So let's leave me for another time!" The others laughed, though Harry looked down heartened. That was until Ron whispered to him.
"Hey, mate, I only have five brothers." It took Harry a few moments to do the maths. He looked up at her with a large grin on his face and she returned it. That was that. She knew they were never going to be as close as her and the Weasleys, but for now acceptance was enough. The look that George now directed her was worth it, she had never seen him so…well…proud.
On the other side of the table, Elizabeth could here Hermione talking to Percy about lessons ("I do hope they start straight 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-") she could only reiterate George's earlier statement; she was certainly going to be 'fun'.
Elizabeth was starting to feel sleepy, and the pudding plates were beginning to clean themselves too. The whole hall turned to look at the head table as Dumbledore rose once more. Elizabeth and the twins shared a look; the moment they had been preparing for all summer was almost here.
"Ahem- just a few more words now 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 this also."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins; stopping momentarily to give her a warning look as they passed over her.
"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, our 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 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."
A shiver run through Elizabeth, Dumbledore would not say something like this lightly, no matter how mad he might be.
"And now, before we go to bed let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. This was it, their moment, as the whole school stood Elizabeth shuffled herself between Fred and George as they both threw an arm around her shoulders.
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snake-like, into words.
"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"
The trio took in an over-exaggerated breathe and the whole 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 the trio were the only one left standing and singing along to a well-rehearsed funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished he was one of the ones who clapped the loudest.
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond anything we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Elizabeth had eaten so much food, she found herself struggling to climb the vast amount of stairs that made up the way to the Gryffindor Common Room. After looking around, she discovered she wasn't the only one.
Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. Down corridors where the portraits on the walls whispered and pointed as they passed. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Elizabeth was just wondering how much further they had to go when, they came to a sudden halt.
A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them, and as Percy took as step towards them, they began throwing themselves at him. Ron and Elizabeth enjoyed watching this a little too much.
"Peeves," Percy whispered to the huddle of first years. "A Poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves- Show yourself."
A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. Making Elizabeth chuckle even more. She would have to retell this one to Fred and George in the morning.
"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 Percy.
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. She was beginning to see a trend with this young man too. She decided it might be a good idea to keep an eye on him; in her own special way.
At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a fat woman in a pink silk dress.
"Password," she said.
"Caput Draconis, "said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it- Neville needing a leg up- and found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room, a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
Percy told them that the girl's dorm was up the spiral staircase and on their left and the boy's the same to their right. At last they found their beds: five four-posters hung with deep-red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk, all the girls changed into their pyjamas and fell into bed.
Elizabeth dreamt of home that night. Although, instead of ten faces at the Weasley dining table (Mr and Mrs Weasley, their seven children and Elizabeth) there were eleven. A bespectacled boy, with unruly hair and a lightning bolt scar, had joined them and somehow Elizabeth knew, eventually, everything would work out.
Even if not, necessarily, in the way it was planned.