Chapter 3:
Clara inhaled sharply as she stepped through the double doors into the entrance hall. The castle was magnificent. Hermione smiled at her and said, "Lovely, isn't it?" Clara merely nodded as she stared around. Ron patted his stomach and said "What say we get to the Great Hall and get ready to eat?" "Is that all you ever think about, mate?" Harry said, grinning and punching him in the shoulder. "What?" replied Ron, "I'm hungry." Hermione gave Clara a look that clearly said "Boys." Clara giggled, and suddenly her hand flew to her forehead. "Oh no, I almost forgot! I've got to find...uh..." she dug frantically through her pockets. "Aha!" she exclaimed, extracting a small piece of parchment and reading it. "Um...can you help me find Professor McGonagall?"
Suddenly, a strict-looking woman wearing deep green robes and her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck appeared. "Are you Clara Edwards?" she asked, looking at Clara with such severity that Clara actually flinched at the sound of her own name. "Y-yes...I am." McGonagall surveyed her over the tops of her square spectacles, and with an attempt at a smile said, "Come with me, please." Clara looked helplessly at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who all gave her looks of encouragement before being swept with the crowd into the Great Hall.
She felt the butterflies in her stomach once more, but this time they were much less pleasant. Nearly running, she followed Professor McGonagall to her office. There was a fire crackling merrily in the grate and emitting a soft glow that made the room less harsh, somehow. "Please, take a seat. This will only take a moment." Professor McGonagall spoke quickly, but not unkindly. Clara nervously sat down in an armchair in front of the desk. She noticed a hat sitting motionless in front of her. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and placed it on Clara's head.
Before she realized what was happening, Clara was hearing a small voice in her ear. "Hmm...Clara Edwards? An American, eh? Interesting...but never fear! You won't be difficult to place...ahh let's see...yes, yes I think that's it...GRYFFINDOR!" The hat actually shouted the last word, or so Clara thought. "Yes, that's what I suspected," Professor McGonagall said, really smiling this time. Clara looked at her questioningly. "I am Head of Gryffindor house, Miss Edwards, and I trust you'll give me no reason to be displeased with your placement." Shaking her head, Clara quietly replied "No, ma'am." "Very well, let's head to the Great Hall, shall we? I expect you're hungry." And with that, they left the office.
Upon entering the Great Hall, Clara gasped. She looked up at the ceiling, which was as scattered with stars as the sky outside. Glancing around the room, she tried to determine where to sit. Suddenly she noticed Harry standing up and waving to her. "Which house?" he mouthed, for the Hall was too loud to actually hear him. "Gryffindor," she mouthed back. He grinned widely and motioned her over to him. Relief swept over her and she grinned back. As she approached the table, Harry shoved Ron over to make room for her between them. Hermione grinned at her from across the way. She opened her mouth to speak and silence fell over the room.
Clara followed the eyes of her new housemates to the head table where an old man that Clara assumed must be the Headmaster stood. "Good evening," he said in a carrying voice. "And welcome to another wonderful year at Hogwarts. I shall save my proper speech, as usual, for after the feast, because no doubt you, like I, can wait no longer. Tuck in." Clara turned back to Hermione and was taken aback to find the formerly empty table laden with food. Harry laughed and said "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
After a filling meal, the Gryffindors wearily made their way to the tower. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took it in turns to explain the staircases, ghosts, and portraits at Hogwarts. They had just started an interesting discussion on the different professors when they reached a portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress. "Password?" she asked, looking down at them. The four looked at each other. "Wait!" called out a voice coming up the stairs behind them. Clara turned to see the same round-faced boy she'd met on the carriage. "I've got the password!" he huffed, mounting the last few stairs. "Never thought I'd see the day," Ron said jokingly, "Neville Longbottom knows the password." Neville grinned sheepishly and said "Ursa Minor."