A/N: Hi, so if anyone reading this is fasting for Ramadan, I just want to give you a heads up that this chapter contains some description of the Welcome Feast, so you might want to hold off on this one, or just skip the few paragraphs about it.
As the scarlet steam engine chugged to a halt, Harry and Ron leaned up against the window of their compartment, noses pressed to the glass, trying to catch of glimpse of the school they would call home for the next few months. With a hissing pop, the doors up and down the train released and swung open, students spilling forth onto the platform, buzzing with excitement. The older students took off in the direction they knew they out to head, but the first years hung back, some tentatively setting off in the same direction as the others, some nervously looking the other way, most of them getting pushed in some direction they hadn't intended to move.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A loud booming voice calls over the noise, and Harry feels himself relax slightly as he spies the massive form of Hagrid swinging a lantern and calling them toward him. "All right there, Harry?" He asks, turning his attention to the small boy long enough to receive a nod in answer, and then once again returning to his task of collecting the first years. "C'mon, follow me! Any more firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years, follow me!"
Hagrid set off in the darkness, and the mass of eleven year olds swarmed after him, jogging to keep up with his large strides.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here," Hagrid tells them, beaming with excitement, and Harry can't help but feel that it's contagious.
They round the bend and find a glistening black lake, huge, with a forested peninsula sticking out just beyond halfway across. Directly across the water, just to the side of the tree line, a magnificent castle stands majestic up a sloping hill, lights flickering in a thousand windows across the walls and climbing up the turrets. The reflection wavers and glistens in the water, and there is an audible intake of air as the entire crowd of eleven year olds gasps. A small fleet of boats sits on the shore, little wooden rowboats, though Harry can't see any oars.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid instructs, and they all clamber toward the boats, splitting themselves into groups. Harry and Ron choose a boat next to Hagrid, and to Ron's displeasure, they are joined by the round-faced boy with the toad and Hermione Granger. He rolls his eyes as she starts chattering away in a whisper, spouting facts about the Black Lake and the Giant Squid and the forest between them and the castle. "Everyone in? Right then – FORWARD!" Hagrid gives the command and the little boats pull away of their own accord, small rivulets of water streaming out from the bow of each one in waves as they glide across the lake.
Harry feels like his head is on a pivot as he looks every which way, trying to take in all of his surroundings. To his left is the forest, a thick mass of trees as far as he can see, denser than any woods he'd ever seen before. Up ahead is the castle, turrets reaching toward the sky, the lights in the window winking at him – as they got closer he could see a massive wooden door that looked as though it could withstand anything, even time. To the right is an open expanse, a cluster of squat buildings near the castle wall and what Harry thought might be a Quidditch pitch in the distance. With a slight bump that sent the round-faced boy lurching forward into Ron, who glared back harshly, the boats reached a dock and Harry followed Hagrid as he stepped out and marched up the slope toward the castle. When they are about ten yards away, the great wooden doors open, light spilling out onto the lawn, and Harry sees a tall figure in heavy robes and a long pointed had standing in the center of the doorway.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid says proudly, puffing his chest out.
"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here," Professor McGonagall answers, stepping forward into the light. She doesn't look inherently frightening, but at the same time, Harry has never felt more intimidated in his life. She's tall, her greying hair drawn back tightly into a knot at the base of her neck, her sharp green eyes flickering over each of them in turn. Her robes are a deep emerald, made from some kind of heavy fabric that sits elegantly on her frame, and she wears a gold lion shaped brooch clasped at her neck. She turns on her heel, stepping forward into the Entrance Hall, motioning for the new students to follow her. They stop just short of a small marble staircase, beyond which lies another set of grand double doors, a substantial amount of noise issuing forth from behind them, where Harry assumes the rest of the school is now gathering.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall begins, giving the new students the smallest hint of a smile as she speaks. "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 rulebreaking will lose house points." She pauses to give them a stern, disapproving look, as though daring them to test her, only it's not the kind of challenge Harry reckons any sane individual would accept. "At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will become 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. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." She turns and walks through a smaller door to the side of the grand ones in front of them, which Harry suspects leads to some sort of antechamber. Without her speech to focus on, Harry feels his nerves begin to mount again, an awful tightening feeling taking root in his stomach.
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he whispers to Ron, who had been gazing up at the high arched ceiling.
"Some sort of test, I think," he mumbles in response, wrenching his eyes away from the ceiling and back to Harry. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
As the minutes pass, the first years slowly start to get more chatty, asking each other questions about the sorting and which house they want to be in. It's not until she clears her throat loudly (and harshly) that they notice that Professor McGonagall has returned and is standing in front of them once more.
"Now, form a line, and follow me," she instructs, her tone commanding them to do it quickly as she waits outside the double doors. When all forty students have formed a line two across, the doors to the Great Hall swing open, and Professor McGonagall leads their march toward the front.
Four immensely long tables run almost the entire length of the Hall, house banners hanging above each of them, and along the front, under massive glass windows that took up nearly the entire wall, is another table, perpendicular to the four others, at which sits all the staff. In the center of this table, under the Hogwarts crest, sits Albus Dumbledore himself in an ornate gold chair with crimson velvet cushions. The entire staff table is raised, as though on a small stage, and the first years march toward it behind Professor McGonagall with purpose.
"It's bewitched," Harry hears Hermione say behind him, "to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
Wondering what she could be talking about, he casts his case about, and eventually looks up, gasping aloud as he sees the ceiling – or rather, lack thereof. Instead of the tall, arching eves he expects to see, Harry finds the sky, open, deep navy blue and velvety, peppered with stars winking down at them, and he tugs on Ron's sleeve, pointing up. He's so entranced, he almost doesn't notice when they stop walking, nearly crashing into the boy in front of him. They're standing at the foot of the dais now, right in front of the staff table, and an old man with a pronounced limp and a seemingly permanent scowl on his face is carrying a stool and a very old, very patched up hat toward them. He sets it down with a loud thunk and walks away, and the whole room seems to hold its breath, waiting. Suddenly, the hat gives a little twitch at the top, and then opens wide from a slit near the brim, and begins 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!
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron breathes with relief, and Harry smiles, but the knot in his stomach doesn't loosen. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!"
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall instructs, before unfurling a roll of parchment and reading the first name. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A small, slightly pudgy girl with mousy brown hair moves forward, not looking nearly as nervous as Harry feels, and McGonagall places the hat on her head. After only a few seconds, it's mouth opens wide once more and the hat shouts, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The girl smiles and moves toward the table on the middle right, and then it is time for the next student.
"Bones, Susan," McGonagall calls, and another brown haired girl steps forward, this one hardly looking nervous at all.
Is no one else nervous? Harry thinks to himself, looking around at the other students as the hat declares Susan a Hufflepuff as well. Boot, Terry is called next, and the gangly boy becomes the first Ravenclaw, joining the middle table to the left as they cheer for him. What if I get put in Slytherin? I don't want to end up like You-Know-Who, or Malfoy. What if my house doesn't want me? What if I get sorted and everyone is disappointed? Harry frets as Brocklehurst, Mandy joins Terry in Ravenclaw.
"Brown, Lavender," McGonagall shouts, and Harry tries very hard to focus on the sorting as a very pretty girl with perfect blonde curls sits on the stool, and the hat declares her the first Gryffindor. The table farthest to the right erupts with cheers and catcalls, Ron's twin brothers the loudest of all.
Harry fidgets impatiently as Bulstrode, Millicent and Crabbe, Vincent both join the Slytherin table, while Finch-Fletchly, Justin becomes a Hufflepuff. Finnigan, Seamus turns out to be a sandy-haired boy with a thick Irish accent Harry had heard talking when they were waiting in the Entrance Hall, and Harry is quite pleased when he is sorted into Gryffindor (hoping that he'll be put there as well). Malfoy's other crony, Gregory Goyle, is (unsurprisingly) sorted into Slytherin, and Harry sees Malfoy smirk happily as his two henchmen sit next to each other, with a gap perfectly Malfoy-sized in between them.
"Granger, Hermione," Professor McGonagall continues, and the bossy, bushy-haired girl steps forward. The hat sits on her head for nearly half a minute before proclaiming, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Harry hears Ron groan audibly next to him.
Longbottom, Neville takes the longest amount of time of anyone yet, almost a whole minute before the hat pronounces him a Gryffindor as well, and then McGonagall calls forward Draco Malfoy. The hat hardly even touches his head before it declares him a Slytherin, and he walks away, blonde hair perfectly unmussed, to sit between Crabbe and Goyle. Parkinson, Pansy, a huge girl with a demeanor that Harry can already tell will make her a bully, joins the Slytherin table as well. A pair of twins with dark skin and matching braids of silky black hair trailing down their backs get separated, Padma going to Ravenclaw and Parvati joining Gryffindor. And then finally,
"Potter, Harry," Professor McGonagall calls, her voice ringing throughout the Hall as the students all quiet, straining to get a good look at him as he walks forward and nervously sits on the seat. McGonagall places the hat on his head and he feels it slip down around his eyes and ears, and suddenly the Great Hall is gone, just the inside of the hat and small voice murmuring in his head.
"Hmm, difficult. Very difficult," comes the gravelly voice of the hat, and Harry is so surprised by it he jumps, nearly slipping right off the stool. "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?" Not Slytherin, Harry thinks, hoping that the hat can somehow hear him, not Slytherin, please, anything but Slytherin. "Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all there 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!"
Harry sighs in relief as Professor McGonagall yanks the hat off his head again, and he even thinks he sees her offering him a small smile, and he grins broadly at Ron as he hurries over to the table below the red and gold banner, with a lion that prances and gives a small roar, barely audible over the din of cheering issuing forth from the rest of the Gryffindor students.
"We got Potter! WE GOT POTTER!" the Weasley twins chorus, and Harry beams at them, feeling more welcomed than he could have imagined, and he plops down into an empty seat across from them and next to Ron's older brother, Percy. He's hardly paying any attention, so relieved that it's all over, when Thomas, Dean, a very tall black boy who had been talking to Seamus Finnigan earlier also becomes a Gryffindor, and Turpin, Lisa goes to Ravenclaw. Then,
"Weasley, Ronald," is called, and Harry feels the twins and Percy tense as Ron, who is looking rather green at this point, trudges forward toward the stool. Not unlike Malfoy, the hat barely touches his head when it shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Harry cheers loudly, nearly making himself hoarse as the twins whistle and Percy claps enthusiastically, calling out "Well done!" when Ron sinks into the seat next to Harry, grinning from ear to ear. Lastly, Zabini, Blaise is made a Slytherin, and then the Sorting is officially over, and Harry is beginning to realize just how hungry he is as the scowling old man comes back to take the hat and the stool away again. Professor Dumbledore stands, raising his arms for quiet, and the entire student obliges him, not a single one continuing to talk.
"Welcome!" he booms, smiling, and Harry thinks he sees a special little twinkle at him. "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! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak! Thank you!"
Most of the students laugh, though half of the first years look a little unsure, as though trying to figure out whether or not Dumbledore's speech is a joke or the ravings of a lunatic.
"Potatoes, Harry?" Percy offers, and Harry looks round at the table, startled by the sudden appearance of immense quantities of food, more than Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor students could possibly eat, or so he thinks, until he witnesses Ron loading his plate up so high, it forms a little mountain. "Harry?" Percy asks again, and Harry nods, taking the bowl and spooning some of the roast potatoes onto his own plate.
He grabs chicken and potatoes and some kind of stew and even some aubergine, thinking how much Remus would scold him if he didn't eat any vegetables with his dinner. There's carrots, peas, cauliflower, diced potatoes in a cheesy sauce, potato wedges, roast potatoes, a pasta in some kind of green sauce Harry's never seen before, roast chicken, breaded chicken, chicken in tomato sauce with cheese on top, chicken in some kind of buttery sauce, curry, and a dozen dishes Harry can't identify. He takes as much as he can, which is nowhere near as much as Ron, and eats until he feels absolutely stuffed, thinking he couldn't possibly manage another bite, and then dessert appears. There's treacle and custard, little puffs of pastry filled with whipped cream, half a dozen different types of cookies, a chocolate cake that looks incredibly rich, bowls filled with fresh melon, strawberries, blueberries, grapes, and pineapple, apple pie, cheesecake, and, to Harry's delight, his favorite, clafoutis. As he served himself a slice of the tasty dish, topped it with a little warm custard, and added a few cookies to his plate, Harry realized he had been so intent on eating the delicious food, he hadn't been paying attention to any of the conversation around him at all. He looked over at where the sandy-haired boy, Seamus, was talking to Dean, Hermione, and Neville, while simultaneously making a mess of eating the chocolate gateau.
"I'm half and half. 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," he proclaims as he smears more chocolate icing around his face, and the others laugh, whether at Seamus' father's predicament or at the food now covering Seamus' mouth and cheeks, Harry isn't sure.
"What about you, Dean?" Neville asks timidly, looking eager to make a good impression on his new classmates.
"Er, I'm not sure," Dean answers, looking very uncomfortable. "My mum's not a witch, neither is Dad, and none of my sisters are either, but, well, I don't know, I suppose my biological father could be, he never told Mum, and he left when I was a baby…" He trails off and Hermione has the good sense to change the subject.
"I haven't got any magical blood," she says, rather cheerfully, "so it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter. I think Mum and Dad'll miss me though, I haven't got any siblings, so it'll be just them at home now."
"I wish I'd had siblings," Neville muses miserably, picking at his treacle tart. "Then Gran might have someone else to pick on."
"I've always wanted siblings too," Harry chimes in, much to the surprise of the others. "I think Ron's incredibly lucky, to have all those brothers."
"You're mental," Ron replies, the words barely coherent through the mouthful of food.
"Oi, we heard that!" Fred, or maybe George, Harry hasn't quite figured out who is who yet, says loudly. "Ron says he doesn't like having brothers," he says to his twin nudging him in the ribs to get his attention.
"Well that's rather rude," George, or Fred, responds, considering his younger brother carefully. "Perhaps Ickle Ronniekins just doesn't like being the baby –"
"Shut it!" Ron interjects, turning bright red. "I'm not the baby, Ginny is."
"Yeah, but she's not here, is she, baby brother?" Fred answers with a wide grin, and Ron flushes crimson.
"Don't worry, Ron, we'll take good care of you," George smiles, sharing a wicked look with his twin.
"Yeah, we won't tell anyone about your teddy bear," Fred continues, and the others begin to snicker as Ron looks like he might murder the twins.
"You didn't forget to bring him, did you?" George asks, and Harry truly thinks Ron might punch them.
"Wouldn't want you to have nightmares," Fred says, feigning a look of concern.
"This is all your fault," Ron mumbles to Harry, looking furious with his brothers, while Seamus and Dean clutch their stomachs with laughter, and Neville snorts out his milk. Even Hermione looks like she's having a very difficult time composing herself. Harry just smiles his apology, which is very ill felt, since he regrets nothing about the situation, while the twins continue their mocking.
"Ahem –" Dumbledore's voice floats over them, getting everyone's attention as he stands once more, "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." He looks pointedly towards the Gryffindor table, and Harry is sure that the warning is meant particularly for Fred and George. "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 side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." A quiet murmuring breaks out through the Hall at these words, everyone curious about the cryptic warning.
"He's not serious?" Harry asks, a little concerned that something so dangerous could actually be in the castle.
"Must be," Percy answers, a confused look furrowing his brows. "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." He bristles at this last point, as though insulted that he was not trusted with such important information.
"And know," Dumbledore cuts across the commotion, "before we go to bed, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!" He waves his wand and a pink ribbon shoots out, twisting it's way into words, and Harry tries his best to sing along as the voices of every student joins in the most cacophonous chorus he's ever heard.
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 filled with 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!
"Ah, music," Dumbledore sniffles when the last of the students – naturally Fred and George, having picked a slow funeral dirge to sing to – have finished. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Percy stands and calls for the first years to follow him, and they all stand sleepily, a few rubbing their eyes, and follow him back out into the Entrance Hall. They walk up winding marble staircases, and every now and then Percy tells them to jump over a trick step or mind a suit of armor. He keeps up a steady commentary about the history of the castle, pointing out portraits of famous witches and wizards and indicating useful hidden passageways. At one point, Harry witnesses a staircase below them move, so instead of connecting to a fourth floor passage on the left, it connects to a fifth floor passage on the right. Percy assures them that this is entirely normal, and Harry feels a sense of wonder sweep over him. How had his father and Remus and Sirius never told him exactly how amazing this place is, Harry wonders. Sure, they had told him plenty of stories from when they were kids at school, but somehow they had left out all these amazing details. By the time they reach the seventh floor, Harry is getting very tired, and he is extremely relieved when they stop outside a portrait of a very fat lady in a frilly pink robe.
"Password?" she inquired, appraising the new first years.
"Caput Draconis," Percy replied proudly, loudly and clearly enough for all the first years to hear.
She swings open to admit them, and they all follow Percy through to the common room. Harry looks around and cannot think of anything that would feel more like home – the entire room is furnished in crimson and gold, a gorgeous rug soft under his feet, enormous crackling fireplace across the room, with a collection of red plush couches and love seats surrounding it. A few wooden tables with cushioned chairs sit along one wall, under glass windows, and a rickety wooden staircase leads to two levels of balconies that ring the room, each lined with an assortment of bookshelves, wooden tables, and rings of sofas. Percy directs the girls through a door to the right, and leads the boys through one to the left, where they climb a spiral staircase. Percy directs them through the third floor door, and the five Gryffindor boys find themselves in a round room with five four post beds, crimson curtains hanging from each of them. Between each bed is a tall, skinny window, a wide nightstand with two sets of draws, one for each person, two goblets and a pitcher of water set carefully on the nightstand, and at the foot of each bed is a trunk. Each boy finds his own, and they begin getting their things together. Harry's bed is closest to the door, next to him is Ron, then Neville, Dean, and finally Seamus, nearest a door that leads to a small bathroom, and in the middle of them all is a small stove, lit with a crackling fire to warm the room. Harry is so tired, he unpacks nothing but his pajamas, and crawls right into bed. He faintly registers Ron saying something, but his brain his foggy from so much food and excitement, and he falls asleep almost immediately.
Some material borrowed from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, pp 83-97
Dean's backstory can be found on an archive of JK Rowling's official website, but more easily on the his Harry Potter wiki page.
If you want to see a [very] rough sketch of what I imagine the common room to look like, you can view that here: /c3i7KOF
For those of you who don't know what clafoutis is, it's a French dessert that consists of flan-like custard mixed with some kind of fruit – cherries, berries, although when I lived in France we usually made it with small prunes. You can see a picture here - wp-content/uploads/2010/06/clafoutis_ - or here - . - They look kind of weird, but they're super delicious, I loved them.