A/N: You'll find a lot of things that sound familiar in this chapter, but that's only because I simply couldn't come up with a satisfying description of Hogwarts. So I used some of Rowling's instead-not word for word, of course. After all, it is her world and no matter how hard I try, I would never be able to describe it as perfectly as she did.
Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Harry Potter. That still belongs to J.K Rowling.
Chapter 6: Sorting Ceremony
Lily sighed as she walked around her quarters, admiring her work. She had done her best to make her new quarters as cosy as possible, given that she would be spending most of the school year there. She had requested Dumbledore place her as far as possible from the dungeons and he had obliged, giving her Professor Merrythought's old room, which was fairly spacious and comfortable. She had decorated the walls with an emerald green tapestry—just like their room in Godric's Hollow had been. A large bookshelf that now held her entire collection of books took up most of the left wall and she had managed to charm the wall opposite to it so that it was an exact replica of the Black Lake, given that it brought many good memories about her and James.
She walked out to her office and took a seat in a chair by the kindling fire, staring into it, feeling completely exhausted. Walking through the corridors had been complete torture. The minute she had set foot in the castle, Lily had been bombarded with thousands of haunting memories, some of them good, others not so much. Professor McGonagall had found her crying her heart out in the Third Corridor by the Charms classroom, in the exact same spot where James had first kissed her. She couldn't bear it. Every nook and cranny of the castle brought a new memory about her and James and with it a blow to her healing heart. It might have been ten years since James had died, but not a day went by that she didn't miss him.
She let out another sigh as there was a tentative knock on her door and she stood to open it. She wiped the stray tears that had escaped and plastered on a fake smile, before opening it, expecting to see Professor McGonagall telling her it was time for the feast. What she didn't expect was too see a certain shaggy haired man standing there, smiling at her. One look at Sirius and Lily lost it. Before she could stop them, the tears started spilling and she could feel Sirius lead her into an awkward hug.
"Sh, sweetheart. It's all right. It'll be fine," he whispered to her, stroking her hair.
"I miss him, Sirius. I've tried to move on. Merlin knows I've tried. But I just can't. And coming here didn't help. Everything about this castle reminds me of him," she said between sobs.
"I know, sweetheart. And I miss him too," he said, sighing heavily. "But James wouldn't want to see you like this. You know how much he hated to see you cry."
"I know, but I just can't help it sometimes," she said, pulling away to wipe her tears. "So what brings you here, Padfoot?"
"I was in Hogsmeade and thought I'd check up on you. And Minerva thought it'd do you good if I popped in for a quick visit; she sounded rather concerned when told me about—er—earlier."
"Oh, Merlin. I feel awful for worrying her."
"She understands how hard this is for you, Lils. We all do. You don't have to do this, you know. I'm sure Albus would understand."
"No, Sirius. I do. I can't explain it, but I feel this is where I'm supposed to be. And just because I'm not at Hogwarts doesn't mean I'll stop missing James. That'll never go away."
He nodded, as if he understood exactly what she was going through. And perhaps he did. After all, hadn't James been like a brother to him?
"Well, I should get going. The brats will be here anytime soon," he said, giving her a smirk and she rolled her eyes. "Think you'll be able to manage?"
"I'll be okay."
"Bye Lils. Give Harry my love when you see him."
"Will do. And thank you, Sirius."
"Anytime."
As the train came to a slow stop, people started rushing out of the compartments and pushing their way through, out onto the tiny, dark platform. Harry stepped out of the train, with Ron following closely behind him. He squinted his eyes, trying to make his way without bumping into anyone, which was quite hard given that other students surrounded him on either side.
A bobbing lamp came into view and Harry heard a familiar, booming voice: "Firs' years! Firs' year's follow me! All right there, Harry? Ron?"
Both children smiled and nodded before making their way after Hagrid.
"C'mon firs' years! Follow me! Mind yer step."
Stumbling, the first years made their way after Hagrid, down what seemed to be a narrow path. They were all quite silent, given their excitement and nervousness. The silence of the night was only broken by Neville, who kept sniffing loudly.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called to them over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
There was loud gasps and a chorus of "Oooh's" as the narrow path opened onto the edge of a great lake, given them a clear view. Lying peacefully against the September night, stood a vast castle with many turrets and towers, its windows sparkling and blending into the starry sky.
"All right, no more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called to them, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting calmly in the water by the shore. Neville and Hermione followed Harry and Ron into their boat. Ron groaned and Harry elbowed him, smiling at them.
"Everyone seated?" shouted Hagrid, who was sitting in a boat by himself. "Right then—FORWARD!"
And with that the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which seemed to be as smooth as glass. Everyone was rather silent, staring up at the great castle overhead, trying to take it all in. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
"Everyone heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
A girl screamed and everyone turned to look at her. Perched on top of her head was a rather big, warty toad.
"Trevor!" cried Neville happily, holding out his hands. Hagrid chuckled and led them up a passageway in the rock, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.
A tall, familiar, black-haired witch threw open the great oak doors and Harry grinned as she flashed her eyes his directions, giving him the most discreet of smiles. Despite her stern appearance, Harry knew she was rather warm-hearted and kind. He had to practically stop himself from running to great his Nana Minerva—as he so fondly referred to her.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.
"Thanks, Hagrid. I'll take them from here," she said, pulling the door wide open, allowing them a view of inside.
The entrance hall was so big you would have been able to fit Harry's house in it just perfectly. The stonewalls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right—and Harry suspected that the rest of the school must already be there—but Professor McGonagall showed them into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather close, closer 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," she looked at Harry when she said this, an amused glint in her eye, "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 Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.
"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly," she said, giving them one last stern look before exiting the chamber.
"How exactly do you think they sort us into Houses?" someone next to Harry asked.
He was about to answer when a voice behind him made him jump a foot in the air and he heard several screams coming from the people around him.
"Ah, new students! Splendid," the voice said and Harry turned around to see whom it belonged to.
Standing—or rather floating—in front of him was a fat little monk and next to him where several other ghosts peering curiously at them. Harry smiled, recognising the ghost in front of him, thanks to Tonks.
"You must be the Friar."
"That I am m'boy!" he said cheerfully.
"I see you're about to be Sorted, right?" asked a ghost wearing ruffs and tights.
A few people nodded—many of them still shocked at the sight of the ghosts surrounding them.
"Well, I hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Fat Friar, smiling at them. "Used to be my old House, you know," he said, before floating away, along with the other ghosts, as Professor McGonagall reappeared.
"Alright, now all of you form a straight line and follow me."
Harry got into line in between a sandy haired boy and Ron. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, into a pair of double doors leading to the Great Hall.
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him; it was better than he had imagined. Thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting, lighting the Great Hall. 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. He spotted Dumbledore among them and he gave him a small smile before inspecting the rest of the Professors. Harry came to a complete stop as he became aware of a certain redheaded Professor who was smiling at him, her green eyes never leaving his. He blinked twice before rubbing his eyes, convinced that it was just a trick of the light. But there she was, smiling down at him. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, bringing Harry out of his trance.
He grinned widely and it took all his will power from running up the couple of steps to the long table and hugging his mum tightly. She gave him a small wink and smiled at him again, causing Harry's grin to grow even wider.
"Is that your mum?" Ron whispered in his ear and Harry managed a small nod, before following Professor McGonagall as she led them to the top of the hall, 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, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.
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—Harry noted that it was patched, frayed, and extremely dirty. He stared at it, wondering exactly how this hat was going to do the sorting—Sirius hadn't mentioned that part. Perhaps you had to pull a rabbit out of it, like in the muggle magic shows he had seen on the telly his mum kept in the sitting room? But if that was so, then how exactly was it going to take his wishes into consideration? For a few seconds there was complete silence as everyone turned to look at the Hat. Then, quite suddenly, the Hat twitched and a rip near its brim opened, giving it the shape of a mouth and it 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 Hall erupted into applause as the Hat finished its song. It gave a small bow in the direction of each of the houses before standing quite still. Harry smiled, feeling relieved. Of course, he had to try on the hat—what else would it be? Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and stepped forward, unrolling a long roll of parchment.
"Now, when I call your name, please step forward. You will then sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, 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. Harry 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.
"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; Harry could see the twins catcalling.
"Bullstorde, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd been told about Slytherin from his godfather, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. For example, "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry 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, causing Ron to let out a groan.
When Neville 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."
Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.
There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"—the closer it got to his turn, the more nervous Harry felt and then, a terrible thought struck him: what if the Hat didn't take his opinion into consideration and put him in Slytherin? Would his mum be disappointed?
"Potter, Harry!"
So preocuppied was he that he didn't hear his name being called. Only after Ron gave him a small push did he become aware of everyone's stares. As he stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
He looked over to his mum, who gave him a reassuring smile as he sat on the stool. The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.
"Ah, another Potter. Now, where to put you?" said a small voice in his ear. "Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…So where shall I put you?"
Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not 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."
Please not Slytherin. Anything but Slytherin.
"Well, if you're sure—better be GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and he looked up at the Staff table, where his mum was clapping for him, smiling widely. He returned her smile and walked over to the Gryffindor table. So relieved was he not be in Slytherin, that he hardly noticed he was getting the loudest cheer yet. "Well done, Harry," Percy said as he stood and shook his hand vigorously, like the Prefect he was, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" causing Harry to let out a laugh. He sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost—Harry recognised him as being Nearly-Headless Nick—patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.
And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. Harry could tell he was looking rather pale and he crossed his fingers under the table. A second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the seat next to him.
"How come you didn't tell me your mum was coming to Hogwarts?"
"I had no idea," Harry said, stealing a glance at his mum, who gave him another small wink.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. He looked back up and noticed that Albus Dumbledore had gotten 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. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.
"Always thought he was a bit mad," Fred said, nodding at Professor Dumbledore.
"Mad? Try brilliant! The man's a genius! Best wizard in the world! Although, he is a bit mad, I suppose," Percy said thoughtfully.
Harry's laughed and he turned his attention back to the table and his mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food: beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. And just like Sirius had promised, it was all delicious.
"You're Nearly-Headless Nick, aren't you?" Harry asked the ghost sitting in front of him.
"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?"
"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 it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly-Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So—new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable—he's the Slytherin ghost."
Harry 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 Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
"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 desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding—anything you could ever dream of. As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
The others laughed.
"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- 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 dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the 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 really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here—they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
Harry, 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. To Dumbledore's left, was his mum, who was talking animatedly with a squat little Professor, who looked like he was about to topple over, given the way he kept bouncing excitedly in his seat. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin—Harry didn't know why, but the man seemed strangely familiar. Harry had a feeling he had seen him somewhere.
He had no time to ponder on it however, because just as the hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban and straight into Harry's eyes, a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on his forehead, causing him to wince as he clasped a hand to his forehead. He noticed his mum looking at him concernedly but he managed to give her a small smile, before turning away.
The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look—a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.
"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he 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."
Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent.
"Ahem—just a few more words now that 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 that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, who grinned widely at the Headmaster.
"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 the 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. And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed and his mum rolled her eyes good-naturedly, shaking her head.
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, snakelike, 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. 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!"
"Alright, first-years follow me!" Percy shouted as he rose from the table. The first-years followed suit, but Harry stayed behind. Percy was about to protest when his mum walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"It's alright, Percy. I'll walk him up."
Percy nodded at them before making his way out of the Hall, with the first-year Gryffindors trailing behind him. Ron threw them a curious look, before following Percy out the door.
"Harry! You made it into Gryffindor! I'm so proud of you, love," she said stooping down to hug him. "Although I would have been proud of you regardless of what House you were sorted into."
"Mum!" he said, throwing his arms over her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise, love," she said, laughing gently. "So, how does it feel to finally be in Hogwarts?"
"Absolutely brilliant! And even better now that you're here," Harry said, grinning at his mum. "What'll you be teaching?"
"Potions," she said with a small shrug.
"But I thought Percy said Professor Snape taught that."
"Well yes, but he'll take care of the Advanced classes. I'll be teaching the Basics. Now, come one, love. We better get going. Wouldn't want Nana Minerva—I mean Professor McGonagall—to deduct House points so early into the term, now would we?" she said, offering him her hand, which he took instantly.
His mum led him out of the Hall and Harry noticed that a few of the older students were looking at them curiously, craning their necks to get a better view of him, but he ignored them. She led him up the stairs and Harry felt as if his feet were made of lead—quite possibly because of all the food he had consumed. Harry was about to ask his mum how much farther they had to go, when they came to a sudden stop. A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them and they started throwing themselves them once they got too close.
"Oh, Peeves. Causing havoc as usual aren't you?"
A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.
"I think I should go to the Bloody Baron, don't you?"
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. "If it isn't ickle Lilykins and an ickle Firsty! What fun!" He swooped at them and Lily rolled her eyes.
"I haven't got the time to humour you, Peeves. Either you go away or I call the Bloody Baron."
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks to the ground. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armour as he passed.
"That was Peeves—a Poltergeist. You'll want to avoid him, love. He can be a total pain when he wants to."
They set off again, only to stop at the very end of the corridor, where a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress was hanging.
"Password?" she said.
"Caput Draconis," said Lily, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. "You'll want to remember that, love."
They peered inside and Harry caught a glimpse off the Gryffindor common room. It was a round room, full of squashy armchairs.
"Ah, the Gryffindor common room. It brings back such good memories. Well, this is where I leave you, love. You're dormitory should be through the door on the right. It should have a plaque that reads 'First Years', alright? I'll be on the Sixth Floor, if you need me. Goodnight, Harry. See you tomorrow."
"Night, mum," he said sleepily as he scrambled in through the opening in the wall. "Love you."
"I love you, too, Harry," she said as the portrait closed again.
Lily sighed as she slowly made her way back to her own sleeping quarters. She changed rather hastily into her nightgown, before settling down in what would be one of many sleepless nights to come. She just hoped she was doing the right thing.