Thank you so much for the support!
The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Lucy'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. Lucy 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. Lucy nervously tried to fix her unruly long hair. Clary tried to do something about Rupert's long hair.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber. Lucy swallowed.
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" she asked Ron.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
"Your brother, Fred, is a git," Clary interjected. "It's just a test to see who goes into what house. There's no way it's that big challenge."
Rupert stayed silent.
Lucy's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But she didn't know any magic yet – what on earth would she have to do? She hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. She looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which one she'd need. Lucy tried hard not to listen to her. She'd never been more nervous, never, not even when she'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that she'd somehow turned her teacher's wig blue. She kept her eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead her to her doom.
Then something happened which made her jump about a foot in the air – several people behind her screamed.
"What the –?"
She gasped. So did the people around her. 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."
"Rue, didn't Dad tell us never to trust a Hufflepuff?" Clary asked.
"Yeah, he said something about an old friend in that house never paying him back."
"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."
Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Lucy got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron, Clary, and Rupert behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Lucy 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. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Lucy looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
"Know-it-all," Lucy heard Clary murmur. Ron snorted.
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.
Lucy 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 wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.
Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Lucy thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing – noticing that everyone in the Hall was now staring at the hat, she 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.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Rupert, Clary and Lucy. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
"A troll?" Clary hissed. "I told you he was a git! How can you stand him? At least, this isn't so bad."
Lucy smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but she did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Lucy didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for her.
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. Lucy 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.
"Bonnet, Clary!"
Clary turned to her brother for some kind of reassurance. Even though she was putting up a strong front, she felt just as nervous as the other first-years. Instead he said, "Tell the hat to put you in Hufflepuff."
"What?" Clary blinked. She knew that the professor was about to call her name again, but she had to know why her brother was telling her this now. "You can't tell the hat where to put you. And why would I want to be in Hufflepuff?" She wrinkled her nose. "Is this about the –"
"Just do it," he gave her a little shove and stepped back into the crowd of students.
She gave him one of her defiant looks and stepped forward. He shook his head and sighed, already knowing what to expect. Clary never did what you told her to. You can't fight Fate, he thought.
Clary sat down on the stool and put on the hat.
"Ah," the hat started. "I see we've got a clever one here! But it doesn't look like you have the patience to sit down and read a book…You've obviously got a fair bit of loyalty here but mostly towards your brother –"
"Only towards him," she corrected.
"Whoa, definitely a spitfire from what I see here. Plenty of courage and untapped potential… Not enough cunning for Slytherin…"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
You can't fight Fate, he thought again.
Clary gave him one of her triumphant grins as she hurried to join the Gryffindor table. And then she saw Fred. She'd forgotten for a moment that he was in this house. He was holding out a chair for her with a cheeky grin as his twin watched with curiosity. She took an empty chair on the other side of the table instead.
"Bonnet, Rupert!"
Rupert stepped forward but he did not go to the stool. Instead he went to Professor McGonagall and told her that he couldn't wear the hat.
"But why not?" She asked the small boy.
"I'm a Voyant and that hat will be able to see everything, won't it? Besides, I already know what house he'll put me in," Rupert answered. "If it helps, we could just ask it based on what it saw in Clary's head."
She sighed. "Fine."
The small boy walked over to the stool and picked up the hat. "I can't put you on. Grandmother said that I can't take any chances. What do you think from what you saw in Clary's head?"
"You're a very smart boy," the hat started. "I'm sure you already know where I think you should go."
Rupert grinned and turned around before holding the hat up to the crowd as they yelled together.
"RAVENCLAW!"
He joined his house amid yells and applause.
The twins turned to Clary. "Aren't you disappointed?" asked George. "Don't you want your brother in the same house?"
"He already told me we wouldn't be in the same house," Clary shrugged. "I would've known without him telling me. He's the studious one, he has to be as a Voyant. I'm the one who always ends up getting herself into trouble." She turned to Fred. "And you're brother told me what you said to him about the Sorting."
George snickered as Fred flushed a bit under my glare. "It was a joke!"
Clary grinned mischievously and looked at Fred's hair before bursting out laughing. George joined her after seeing what she did. He asked the girl next to him if she had a mirror he could borrow and showed Fred.
"Pink!" Fred yelled. "You turned my hair pink!" His hair was now the colour of pink candy floss.
"I think it suits you."
"How did you do that?" George asked.
"When I'm irritated enough, I can do a little 'accidental' magic. I learned how to control it a bit after I almost hurt Rupert one time, but I can only do small things like this," she grinned at Fred again.
"You're mad! It was just a joke!"
"So was this. And it's better than me hurting you because of my temper."
That made him shut up. He took out his wand and proceeded to try to change his hair back. It only became darker.
"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; Lucy could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling and Clary shaking her head at them, exasperated.
"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Lucy's imagination, after all she'd heard about Slytherin, but she thought they looked an unpleasant lot. Draco didn't seem all that bad, she thought. Would he really end up in Slytherin?
She found herself hoping he wouldn't.
She was starting to feel definitely sick now. She remembered being picked for teams during sports lessons at her old school. She had always been last to be chosen, not because she was no good or because she was a girl, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked her.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Sometimes, Lucy 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 Lucy 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.
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.
Hermione hurried to the table and sat beside Clary. "I believe we met on the train," said Hermione. "Clary Bonnet, right? Your brother is the Voyant."
"Yes," Clary answered, already sensing that this was going to be a long, boring conversation, possibly about Voyants and Seers. She found herself looking to the twins for help.
Fred winked back, pointed at his hair, and mouthed, "Sorry."
Meanwhile, a horrible thought struck Lucy, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if she wasn't chosen at all? What if she just sat there with the hat over her eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off her head and said there had obviously been a mistake and she'd better get back on the train?
When Neville Longbottom, 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 "GRYFFINDOR", Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag".
Draco swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
Draco went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.
Lucy noticed him glancing at her on the way to the table and she gave him a weak smile which he returned.
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, Lucy!"
As Lucy stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Lucy Potter?"
The last thing Lucy saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the Hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.
"Hmm," said a small voice in her 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?"
That was a difficult question to answer. She didn't want to be in Slytherin because she didn't think of herself as very cunning and no one at that table looked very friendly. Draco could be my friend soon but what about Ron and Clary? Lucy thought. She was sure that Gryffindor was where she belonged because that was where most of her true friends would be. She found herself imploring the hat not to put her in Slytherin.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that – no? Well, if you're sure – better be GRYFFINDOR!"
Lucy heard the hat shout the last word to the whole Hall. She took off the hat and walked shakily towards the Gryffindor table. She was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Clary smiled at her as Lucy sat down beside her and opposite the ghost in the ruff they'd seen earlier. The ghost patted her arm, giving Lucy the sudden, horrible feeling she'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.
She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her the thumbs-up. Lucy grinned back. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Lucy recognised him at once from the card she'd got out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole Hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Lucy 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 three people left to be sorted. "Turpin, Lisa" became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Lucy and Clary crossed their fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Lucy and Clary clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to them.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Lucy as "Zabini, Blaise" was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
Lucy looked down at her empty gold plate. She had only just realised how hungry she was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.
Albus Dumbledore had got to his feet. 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. Lucy didn't know whether to laugh or not. Clary wasn't even paying attention anymore. She was busy watching Rupert with a grim look on her face like they were having a telepathic conversation about something serious. For all Lucy knew, they could be.
"Is he – a bit mad?" She asked Percy uncertainly.
"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Lucy?"
Lucy's mouth fell open, seeing the spread of dishes in front of her. Somehow she doubted she'd be able to try everything that night, but she had the rest of the year to enjoy it all. Dudley, the little pig, would definitely be jealous.
The Dursleys had never exactly starved Lucy, but she'd never been allowed to eat as much as she liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Lucy really wanted, even if it made him sick. Lucy piled her plate with a bit of everything except the humbugs and began to eat. It was all delicious.
"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Lucy cut up her steak.
"Can't you –?"
"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 on to 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 on to his neck, coughed and said, "So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor have never gone so long without winning. Slytherinhave got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost."
Lucy looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Draco who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements. Lucy was caught between pity and amusement when he caught her looking at him and mouthed "help me."
"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus 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 puddings appeared. Blocks of ice- cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding ...
As Lucy helped herself to a treacle tart and Clary finally seemed to end her "conversation" with her brother long enough to enjoy a few of the chocolate éclairs, the talk turned to their families.
Seamus Finnigan explained that he was a half-blood and Neville told the story of his first time he used magic. Lucy couldn't help remembering the time she'd made her hair grow after Petunia had cut it so short that it barely fell beneath her ears, uneven and a terrible mess. It was long enough to reach her waist the next morning.
"I was five," Clary told them. "I had a beautiful, antique dollhouse that Grandmother gave me. I wanted to be able to go inside so I made it bigger. Not big enough to go inside, of course, but definitely bigger. Grandmother kept it that way. While I was doing that, Rupert was doing the same thing with his toy car."
On Lucy's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons.
Lucy, 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 a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.
It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Lucy's eyes – and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Lucy's forehead.
"Ouch!" Lucy clapped a hand to her head.
"What is it?" asked Percy.
"N-nothing."
The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Lucy had got from the teacher's look – a feeling that he didn't like Lucy at all.
"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" she asked Percy.
"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
Lucy watched Snape for a while but Snape didn't look at her again. She found herself thinking that he didn't seem like such an awful person, sad, but not awful. So why had she reacted that way?
"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 in 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 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 very painful death."
Lucy laughed, but she was one of the few who did.
"He's not serious?" she muttered to Percy. How could he say that and not expect someone to be curious enough to go and check it out?
"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 us Prefects, at least."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Lucy 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 snake-like into words.
"Everyone pick their favourite 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. Clary rolled her and mumbled, "I just want to get to bed!" 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 Gryffindor first-years proceeded to follow the prefects, but before Clary could follow Lucy and perhaps get the chance to wish her brother goodnight, someone grabbed her arm.
"Hold it," Fred said. "You still haven't changed my hair back."
"Fine, whatever," Clary sighed, watching her brother leave as she took out her wand. It would make it easier with a wand since she was too tired to just will it all away. "There, the glamour's off. You're lucky, I know spells to make it permanent."
He shuddered. "Look, I'm sorry,, but it was just a joke! He's my brother and –"
"You don't have to explain, I know," Clary interrupted. "I wasn't really mad about that. I was mad about earlier, on the train. I can hold a grudge for weeks sometimes."
"I think I earned your forgiveness."
"I don't like you," Clary stated, eyes narrowed. "So it isn't that easy."
Fred's eyes widened. "What else did I do?"
And then, somehow, Rupert was there.
"When Clary doesn't like someone, she doesn't usually have a reason," he said. "But I don't think it helps that you called her your "dear one." She hates when people -"
"I don't need you to explain things, Rue. We have to go." She took his hand and ran for the door. "How do I catch up with the other first-years?"
After traveling down endless hallways, climbing numerous stairways, and, let's not forget, meeting Peeves, the poltergeist, the first-years finally found themselves in front of the portrait of a very fat woman just as Clary finally catches up to them.
"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 needed a leg up – and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase – they were obviously in one of the towers – they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep-red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed.
"Well, that was a great night," declared Clary as she finished brushing out the knots in her hair. "There was a great meal, most of the boys were okay, and I turned Fred's hair pink for a few hours."
Lucy giggled as she remembered the disgusted look on his face whenever anyone asked about it.
"How am I going to survive another four years here with that git around?"
"He's not that bad," Lucy said, a little cautiously. "He and George helped me with my trunk."
"George probably helped more than he did," Clary said, rolling her eyes.
"Aren't you being a little hard on him?"
Clary paused. "Lucy, sometimes Rupert tells me about my future. He's not supposed to, but he does in the most vague ways possible. Last month, he told me this:
'Two boys you meet,
One boy is sweet
But into darkness he falls,
To he, the Veil calls.
The other is rough
But just as tough
Both boys are certainly brave
Who will you save?
For both you long
But you must stay strong
Only one may live
Only one life to give.'
"Do you have any idea what it means?" Lucy asked. "All I understand is that you have to save someone."
"I do," Clary said, groaning. "But I don't want to save anyone! I just want to help Rupert get through school. I want to help him become a Voyant who can keep the secrets of the future without giving hints! I don't want to get involved with anyone."
"How do you know that Fred is one of the two boys your brother was talking about?"
"Rupert gave me two clues. They were both older and they would both approach me themselves. I have no clue who the other boy is, but Fred's the only person who fits all of my brother's hints. Besides, Fred's a git," Clary shrugged. "My brother's always saying that you can't fight or deceive your destiny, so why does he think I can change theirs?"
Lucy shrugged. "Did he ever say anything about me?"
"I can't tell you even if he did," Clary answered.
Lucy nodded tiredly as her eyes drooped closed and she mumbled goodnight. She fell asleep dreaming of strange voices coming from turbans and Draco's face twisted into an expression of desperation. She woke the next morning, remembering none of it.
Okay, obviously some of the characters need to learn some lessons. Clary wants to concentrate on protecting her brother and no one else (she's also a little prejudiced, but that'll be resolved rather easily once she meets Cedric ;)) Rupert needs to learn how to keep a secret. But they're only eleven, what do you expect? Any suggestions for future chapters? Problems? Please let me know! REVIEW!