Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters and plot elements are the sole property of J.K. Rowling and other affiliated copyright holders. Otherwise, they are spawned from some strange place in my head. I seek no profits from this story, simply to share what I've come up with.
A/N: Okay! Chapter 4! YEAH! In news, I've been ill lately. I haven't had a whole lot of time to devote to working on this; most of my days have been spent sleeping on and off between taking painkillers. It's possible that I'm going to give this chapter a revision while I work on Chapter 5, so you may want to re-read it once the next update rolls out. I'll have a bolded announcement on Chapter 5's A/N if I do decide to do that.
A/N: p.s., sections between *s is taken directly or paraphrased from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
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Chapter 4
He flopped onto his bed, exhausted from his long day of shopping, the incident with his uncle, and the removal of the soul fragment. He was asleep in seconds with Asa curled up at his side, the phoenix feeling tired from the effort he had exerted during the ordeal on the beach.
Harry rose slowly the following morning, groaning as he cracked open his eyes and found that it was nearly noon. He pushed himself onto his feet and shuffled to the loo, his eyes drooping in exhaustion. He washed up slowly, relishing the feeling of the warm water as it pounded his sore body. Every muscle seemed to protest movement after the stress of the previous night. When he finished, he made his way to the mirror to try and tame his unruly hair as best he could. His shower had helped him feel at least a little more refreshed, but as he stepped out the door he had to turn back and rush to the mirror.
He stared at his reflection, pushing up his fringe as he examined his scar. The mark was now only a shadow of its former self; where once it was a reddish color that stood out prominently, it was now only a thin white line. It was still noticeable, certainly, but nowhere near as much as it had been just the day before. He couldn't help but trace his finger over it in disbelief, verifying that what he was seeing was real. He couldn't have kept the smile from his face if he had tried. The blemish that had marred his face for years had faded away, just like the fragment of the man that had put it there in the first place. Sure, it wasn't gone entirely, but in a way he was glad. Before, it was like a signal to the world of what Voldemort had done that night. Now, he thought, it seemed more personal; like a reminder of what his parents had given up to save him.
He left the restroom with a smile on his face, returning to his room to spend the day resting. He used his time to begin reading his school books, working his way through the first chapter of each. Along the way, he worked on repairing the damage to his Occlumency that the previous night had caused. Many sections of his web had been weakened or even destroyed, and he took the opportunity to strengthen his mindscape and its defenses as he filed away the information he was learning. As well as his reading, he practiced using his wand, getting used to the feeling of holding it in his hand as he tried out the wand movements that went with some of the spells he was learning about. Of course, he didn't actually want to cast any of the spells, knowing that magic was not allowed outside of school until he was of age, so he practiced the pronunciations separately from the movements just to be safe.
Once done with studying his textbooks, he moved on to some of his supplementary reading. He skimmed through his books on magical theory, and looked through the book he had purchased on household spells for anything that seemed particularly useful. He went through more wand movements and incantations, covering simple things like cleaning charms and spells to keep things from being damaged. After he had finished his reading for the day, he made the decision to continue his studying over the course of the next month. He found the magic he was learning about fascinating, and wanted to get ahead of the game when it came time to actually put his knowledge to use. The way he figured it, he had plenty of time to work through his books for at least half of the term, so he wrote out a schedule that would keep him plenty busy while he eagerly awaited the arrival of the first of September.
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The month of August passed swiftly, with Harry alternately absorbed in his work and getting out of the house to play. He and Asa made a few more trips to their beach before the weather turned too cold, though the place had begun to feel different since the exorcism of Voldemort's soul fragment. There was something about the stretch of sand and sea that had once felt so safe, but now it was clouded by the memory of that night. Still, the two had fun together, and the place held many more good memories than bad.
As well, during the time he was waiting for his trip to Hogwarts, Harry and Asa made a few journeys out into the world. Specifically, they returned to Diagon Alley and to Gringotts, removing some currency in both non-magical and wizarding varieties. He took the opportunity to visit a glasses shop in the alley, and exchanged his battered old pair of round spectacles – the prescription of which didn't match Harry's needs whatsoever – for a new pair, these having a forest green frame with smaller, rectangular lenses. He weighed his options on getting any enhancements to the lenses, but figured he could have it done later if he found a need for it. He went back into Flourish and Blotts, perusing the stacks once more for anything interesting. Leaving the academic section, he found a few interesting novels that he figured he could read to occupy his spare time in the castle.
In the non-magical world, he took the time to go shopping for some more new clothes, especially outfits for cold weather, knowing that the winter in Scotland was going to be much colder than he was used to. He picked up several warm hats and scarves, a few coats and sweaters, and shoes that would be good for the snow he was sure to encounter as the season really kicked into gear.
Eventually, September 1st came around, and Harry was finding it hard to contain his excitement. Rather than bother his relatives with getting him to his destination, he simply asked Asa to transport him and his trunk to a secluded location within walking distance of King's Cross station. Asa decided that he would accompany Harry on his train ride, neither wanting to be separated from the other on this special day. As well, Asa needed to establish his identity as Harry's owl, and the best way to do that was to be seen together. The pair made their way into King's Cross, Harry carrying his shrunken trunk in his pocket and Asa riding on his shoulder. He got a few funny looks, but not much more. People tended to ignore the strange in favor of getting on with their business, after all.
They walked through the station until they arrived at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. They began to push their way through the crowd of people when they picked up a rather loud female voice coming from somewhere nearby. This would hardly be worth paying attention to, normally, but what the woman was saying made them both swivel their heads in bewildered astonishment.
"- packed with Muggles, of course -" were the first words that drew their attention to the large family of redheads lingering nearby. "Now, what's the platform number?" asked the rather plump woman, clearly the matriarch of this brood. Harry's eyes narrowed immediately. Clearly these people were magical, the way they were dressed made that clear enough. All of the boys looked to be more than old enough to have attended Hogwarts – though he wasn't quite sure about one of them, it looked like he was about Harry's age. The point remained that this family had obviously done this many times, assuming they came through Platform 9 ¾ each September. How could she forget something so simple as the platform number after so many visits? If they hadn't come through the station before, why change that now?
Harry mulled this over in his head while the group continued talking. He was acutely aware of the fact that his gut feeling was telling him to avoid this woman, and given his connection with Asa, he knew that his instincts were pretty accurate on things like this. Watching carefully, he noticed that the mother appeared to be searching the crowd while she kept loudly mentioning things that Harry was almost certain were on the edge of breaking the Statute of Secrecy. Her eyes rested on him for a moment, obviously noticing his owl, but just as quickly she turned away. He saw her huff slightly as she ushered the rest of her children through the gate. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, an itching feeling that he had been the object of her search in the back of his mind. Luckily for him, he had come prepared with a hat covering his head so as to disguise himself enough to pass under the radar. He certainly had no intention of being swarmed again over his well-known scar, so he figured a hat was the best he could do without actually changing his appearance drastically.
As the last of the redheads disappeared into the gateway to Platform 9 ¾, he started on his way towards the barrier and walked through casually. He had seen the redheaded family all taking runs at the thing and scoffed in his head. Why on earth would you need to run at the bloody thing? Again, he thought that the family seemed to be putting on some sort of show, almost trying to draw attention to themselves in the crowded non-magical area.
Upon entering the platform, he took a moment to gaze at the bright red steam engine sitting on the tracks before him. There were wizards and witches everywhere, hustling and bustling about with children in tow, owls and cats wandering all over the place as the students made their way aboard. Harry walked onto the train and headed towards the back, looking for an empty compartment. Near the end he found one and went inside, resizing his trunk and taking out one of the novels he had purchased in Diagon Alley that summer. He set the trunk up in the luggage rack and settled down on the bench to read for a while with Asa resting above him by his trunk.
A few pages in, the door to the compartment slid open. At the doorway stood the youngest male member of the family of redheads, and Harry's eyes instantly narrowed a degree at the discernible shift in the atmosphere.
"Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full." He absently waved his hand at the opposite bench, turning back to his reading. The boy sat down across from him, and at that moment two of his brothers decided to pop in – a pair of twins, who Harry noticed did not give off quite the same atmosphere as their younger sibling – and let their brother know that they would be off visiting some friend of theirs who apparently had a pet tarantula.
As the twins left the compartment, closing the door behind them, the other boy turned to him and tried to strike up a conversation. "Hi, I'm Ron. Ron Weasley." Harry set his book down, earmarking the page he had been reading, and gave a mental sigh at the conversation he was about to have. He knew that the boy would find out who he was eventually, so he figured he should go ahead and get it over with. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter. Pleasure to meet you." he said with his best smile, saying the last with just a little pain. He gave an inward groan as he saw the immediate shift in the boy's demeanor.
"Are you really? Are you really the Harry Potter? Have you- have you really got the, you know…" he tapped on his forehead, and Harry rolled his eyes at the display of tact.
"Yes. Yes, I am, and yes, I do."
"Can I see it then?" Ron asked.
"No, actually. Much as I love showing off my forehead to strangers, I'd rather not have strangers gawking at it all the time, thanks." Harry said, trying his best to stay somewhat cordial as he spoke. Still, he was unapologetic about his refusal; as far as he was concerned, it was his body and his decision what to do with it.
Ron seemed to have a different opinion. "Oh, come on! Don't be such a snob about it! I just want a look, prove you're really him!" The redhead made a grab for Harry's hat, and Harry swatted his hand away sharply.
"Look here you arse! I don't have to prove anything to you! I'm not being a snob, I just don't like being stared at half the time for a bloody mark on my forehead! Why should you care? So I've got a scar, big whoop, lots of people have scars! Doesn't mean you go asking them to lift their shirts or pull down their trousers to look at them!" Harry snapped, his voice elevating with each word. By the end, Ron was sat there rubbing his wrist with a look of shock that was quickly turning into anger. As Ron's mood shifted, Harry saw images of his uncle's purple face flash through his mind.
Ron was just opening his mouth to begin his own tirade when the door slid open. "Excuse me," came a familiar voice, "have either of you seen a… toad?" Harry turned to the door and a smile came to his face. "Hermione! Hi! Sorry, haven't seen a toad, but I'd be glad to help you look. Just give me a second."
He turned away, pulled down his trunk from the overhead, and shrunk it back down with a tap of his wand. Pocketing his things, Asa jumped to his shoulder and he walked out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. He took Hermione's arm in one hand and the arm of the tearful boy who had been standing with her in his other hand, and stalked away with them a ways before stopping and taking a deep breath. With a shuddering sigh, he slumped against the wall of the corridor and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Thanks, Hermione. You just saved me from the most infuriating conversation with perhaps the most tactless boy in our year. Sorry for dragging you along like that…" he sheepishly turned to the boy he had pulled with them, "both of you. Hi, I'm Harry. I take it you're the one who lost this toad?"
"Y-yeah," the boy stammered out, "I'm Neville… Neville Longbottom. You'll really help me look?"
"Sure, I'd be glad to! It's a pleasure, Neville." He offered his hand to the other boy, who hesitantly gave it a shake.
"W-well, thanks Harry. I really appreciate it. We've basically checked the whole train though, and I don't know where else we can look…"
"Well one thing we can do is go to the prefects' compartment. They might know something that would help us out?" Harry suggested, tapping his chin in thought. "I think it's at the front of the train somewhere, what do you think?"
Hermione nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think you're right. Don't know why I didn't think of that sooner… Sorry Neville, we probably could have saved you some time."
"Oh it's fine! I appreciate your help Hermione, it's the thought that counts, right?" said Neville, a smile coming to his face.
"I suppose you're right." replied Hermione, returning his smile. "So, shall we then?"
The three set off down the corridor, working their way towards the front of the train. Along the way, Harry and Hermione caught up on what each other had been up to since their trip to Diagon Alley. Hermione had apparently been even busier than Harry, studying each of her schoolbooks extensively the entire time. She had gotten farther along in her reading, actually finishing all of the assigned texts, but Harry thought that it would have been better for her to get out every once in a while rather than spending all of her time with her nose in a book. He certainly understood the value of reading, but he didn't think he could stand to study nearly as much as she had.
About halfway up the train, they saw a group of three boys step out of one of the compartments ahead. One, a pale-skinned boy with blonde hair, was stood between the other two who were significantly larger. The boys on either side of the blonde were very mean-looking, scowls fixed on their faces. To Harry, they looked a bit like bodyguards the way they were stationed around the other boy.
"Oy! I've heard Harry Potter is on this train. Have any of you lot seen him?" the blonde asked with a sneer, his arms crossed.
The three looked at each other for a moment and back at the trio across from them. Harry heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I have. Every day, in the mirror. And you are…?"
The blonde's eyes narrowed. "You? You're Harry Potter?" He looked Harry up and down, clearly displeased with what he was finding. "As if. Don't waste my time you stupid Mudbloods, now get out of my way."
Neville gasped softly at Draco's words. Harry knew instantly that Malfoy had said something terribly insulting, and felt heat rise to his face as his anger flared. "What is it with all of you?! Won't believe who I am unless you get to see my bloody forehead! Ugh, fine, here, look all you want!" He tore the hat from his head, clenching it in his fist as he glared at the other boy. "Happy? Now what on earth do you want?"
The blonde looked at Harry's forehead and saw the faint scar that rested there. His eyes widened in momentary surprise, but he quickly regained composure. "Right. Well. I've been looking for you, Potter. My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He gestured to the boys to his sides, "This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle. Came to warn you, Potter, you're new to our world; some wizarding families are much better than others, wouldn't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." Here, he looked in the direction of Neville with all the subtlety of a gunshot. "I could help you with that."
He offered his hand for Harry to shake, obviously feeling assured that he wouldn't be refused. Harry simply stared at it for a moment before responding. "One, I think I can tell for myself who's the wrong sort, thank you very much. Two, I believe you owe my friends and me an apology. I don't know what that word you used means, but somehow I get the feeling it wasn't exactly pleasant."
Draco sneered once more, gritting his teeth at the slight. A pink tinge rose to his cheeks as he grit out, "Careful, Potter. May want to be more polite, before you make more enemies than you've already got…" With that, he and his goons roughly pushed past and walked back down the train, obviously returning to their own compartment. Harry pondered the last words Malfoy had said as they stood there in the aftermath of that unexpected confrontation. He decided that he would have to talk to someone – someone from the wizarding world – in order to find out just what Malfoy might have meant by that statement. He looked to his left and decided that Neville would be his first source, when he had the spare time.
Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder and he turned to face her. "I'm sorry Harry. I don't know what his problem was, but… Well, I'm sorry anyways. And thank you for sticking up for us, and well… for calling me your friend…" she trailed off, almost whispering the last bit. Harry smiled at her softly and took her hand. "Don't thank me, Hermione. It's what friends do. And, well, you are my first friend after all…" Mentally, he gave a small apology to Asa. He knew that it wasn't quite true she was his first friend, but in a way, she still was. She was his first friend his age, and his species for that matter, and while Asa would always be the first friend he had ever made, their relationship was of a different nature. Asa simply nuzzled against Harry's head affectionately, sending a signal of understanding through their bond.
Hermione gave Harry an understanding smile and thanked him once more, keeping down her questions about why he had never had a friend before her. Of anyone, she knew that it was probably something he didn't want to talk about. The three continued on their trek up the train, and finally reached the prefects' compartment. They knocked on the door, and it was opened by yet another member of the redheaded Hogwarts contingent.
"Yes? Is something wrong?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. Neville here, he's lost his pet toad, and we were wondering if there was anything you might be able to do to help us find him. We've checked all over the train, but he's nowhere to be found." Hermione replied.
He rolled his eyes, looking for all the world as though he felt this was a waste of his time. Still, he acquiesced. "Alright then. Neville, what's your toad's name?"
"Trevor, sir…" he mumbled, looking embarrassed to be bothering the prefect with his problem.
"Alright then. Accio Trevor!" he incanted with a flick of his wand. They waited for a few moments, while seemingly nothing was happening. Then, they heard a croak coming from down the train, and turned to see a toad heading right towards them through the air. Harry reached out and snatched the toad as it was about to go past them, holding onto it firmly so it wouldn't get away. He handed Trevor over to Neville with a smile, cheekily instructing him to "keep a better hold on him this time."
They turned back to the prefect and thanked him for his help, Neville seeming especially grateful for his pet's return. He simply waved it off, saying "It's nothing, just part of the job." As they left, Harry turned back around. "Sorry, but what was your name sir?"
The redhead looked confused for a moment before replying. "Percy. Percy Weasley. Why?"
"I'd like to let Professor McGonagall know that you helped us out before we even got to school. We really appreciate it! Thanks again!" With that, he turned and led the small group out of the car, leaving Percy with a small smile on his face for the praise.
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After getting Trevor back, the three worked their way down the train and found themselves an empty compartment. Harry raised his eyebrow at that; that rude boy, Ron, had said everywhere else was full. And yet here was a compartment that was 100% free, plenty before the end of the train. He set that information aside for the moment, preferring to settle down with Hermione and Neville as they rode out the rest of the trip. They all placed their trunks in the overhead compartments, Harry once more unshrinking his, and got seated.
The rest of the time, Harry and Hermione got to know Neville better. The shy, round-faced boy began to open up more as time went on, and informed them of some facts of the wizarding world. Both Harry and Hermione were outraged when Neville timidly explained what Malfoy had called them, though Harry was somewhat less surprised since he had had a heads up from Asa on the wizarding world's bigotry against all things non-magical. He also made a point of explaining his views on the word "Muggle," and how he felt that it sounded like a derogatory term itself. Hermione agreed with him after some thought, and Neville seemed to be pondering the idea as they continued to chat. Both were using the word "non-magical" in its place by the end of the ride, though of course Neville made a few slip-ups simply because of his upbringing.
Before the train reached its destination, the three changed into their school robes. First, Harry and Neville stepped out of the compartment so that Hermione could have some privacy to change in, and then they swapped places with Hermione to get themselves ready. Harry was a little hesitant to leave Hermione in the aisle alone, worried that Malfoy and his gang might decide to make an appearance, but it turned out that his worries were unfounded. Harry left his hat off for the rest of the ride, deciding that he may as well stop trying to hide now that he was almost at the school. Neville glanced at his scar once or twice, but always quickly looked away as he realized what he was doing. Harry appreciated his tact and told him as much, which made Neville blush a little.
Shortly thereafter, the train pulled to a stop. The three exited their compartment to find a crowd of students making their way towards the exit, and eventually they made their way out onto a small platform. Harry was extremely glad that he had had the clarity of mind to purchase winter clothing, as the night air was bitingly cold already, and he couldn't imagine what it would be like when winter actually hit. Asa winged off into the night, making his way towards the castle.
Looking around, the group saw a lantern bobbing over the heads of the other students approaching the platform. A loud, booming voice called out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
They began making their way in the direction of the lantern, and halted in their tracks when they saw the enormous man that was calling for them. It took a moment for them to come to their senses and continue their approach, figuring that he must be from the school or else someone would be saying something. As they came nearer to the giant of a man, his eyes locked on Harry for a moment before he said, "'Arry? That you? Why, I 'aven't seen you since you was only a baby!" Harry's eyes widened slightly as the large man inspected him with a smile. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, y'know… But yeh've got yer mom's eyes. Good people, them two. Bet yeh'll do 'em proud."
Harry stared up at the man in shock. He had never heard anything like that before. He had only ever met one person who had known his parents, and that was Professor McGonagall, and now here was another person who knew them; it even sounded like they had been friends. He swallowed a lump in his throat and after a moment asked, "Sir? Who are you?"
The man straightened up and told him, "'m Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds 'ere at Hogwarts. Prefer yeh call me Hagrid, if yeh don' mind." He winked at Harry and turned back to the group of first years who had arranged themselves around the area.
"A'right! C'mon then, follow me! Any more firs' years about? Mind yer step 'ere!"
The group of first years cautiously made their way down a steep, slippery path after Hagrid. Everyone walked mostly in silence, though a few nervous whispers were muttered here and there. They made their way along the path until they came around a bend, and suddenly everyone was stopped as they stared in awe at the sight before them.
"There yeh have it. Beautiful, innit? That castle there 'll be yer home fer the rest of yer time 'ere." Hagrid said, standing to the side of the first years and looking up at the castle with a reverent gleam in his eyes. They stood before an enormous black lake, and across the other side stood Hogwarts castle in all its glory. Lights twinkled in the windows of its many, many towers, and the whole place simply felt of – well, magic.
"A'right now, no more 'n four to a boat!" Hagrid shouted, drawing their attention back to the lake where a collection of small boats sat near the shore. Harry, Hermione, and Neville made their way to a boat and got themselves settled down. A fourth member joined their boat, and to Harry's chagrin he saw that it was one of his two least favorite people in the wizarding world so far – Ron Weasley.
Luckily, Ron seemed willing to keep his mouth shut for the time being. Everyone seemed to be more interested in watching the castle as they made their way across the lake, approaching a cliff face that held Hogwarts high overhead. "Heads down!" yelled Hagrid, and everyone ducked as they pushed through a curtain of ivy into a dark tunnel that ran through the rock wall. They seemed to go on through the tunnel for a long time, and Harry figured that they had to be somewhere below the castle by the time they reached a rocky shore before another stone passageway.
Everyone stepped out of their boats and made their way up along the path, eventually coming out on a large grassy area right in front of the castle itself. They made their way up a large stone staircase that led up to a set of humongous oaken doors. Hagrid raised his fist and banged on the doors three times; the doors opened immediately and there stood a certain tall, stern-faced witch in a set of emerald-green robes. Harry smiled as he recognized Professor McGonagall, and gave her a small wave from the front of the crowd.
"'Ere's the firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid said, waving over the sea of eleven-year-olds.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take over from here." She replied, throwing the doors wide open to usher the children into the entrance hall. The hall was enormous; so big that it seemed you could fit an entire house inside of it. The stone walls were lit all over by burning torches, though the ceiling was too high to be lit at all. In front of them was a gigantic marble staircase that led up to the higher floors of the castle.
The group followed Professor McGonagall through the hall. To the right, the sound of excited voices could be heard through another set of enormous wooden doors. Harry assumed that that meant the rest of the school had already gotten settled inside. They were led to a smaller, empty chamber off to the side of the hall, where they were forced to stand somewhat closer together due to the size of the room. Many students were looking about and whispering nervously, obviously unsure of what was going to happen next.
McGonagall cleared her throat, gathering the attention of all of the students. *"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began, looking out over the sea of first years. "The welcoming feast will begin shortly, but before you will be able to take your seats with the rest of the students in the Great Hall, you will first be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is very important here at Hogwarts as, for the rest of your time here, your house will be something like your family. You will share classes with the rest of your housemates, sleep in a house dormitory, and spend your free time in the house common room.
The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each and every house has a noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumph will earn your house points; any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope that each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."*
She gazed out into the crowd, seeming to linger on those students who were a bit disheveled-looking. After a moment she said, "Please wait here until I return, at which time we will being the Sorting Ceremony."
"How exactly does the sorting work?" came a voice from behind him, obviously nervous about what was to come.
*"Some sort of test, I think." said Ron from somewhere in the crowd, "My brother Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."*
Harry looked to his side and saw that Hermione was wringing her hands. He heard her muttering things under her breath that sounded suspiciously like spells from their textbooks. He leaned over and whispered to her, "Don't worry so much. We haven't been given any lessons; they can't expect too much from us."
Hermione gave him a nervous smile and nodded her head before turning back, still anxious but no longer muttering under her breath.
The students were all standing there, most lost in their heads worrying about the event that was soon to begin, when a group in the back of the crowd let out a series of screams. Everyone jumped a little and looked around to find themselves surrounded by nearly twenty ghosts, who had come from the back wall of the room.
The ghosts seemed to be wrapped up in an argument as they floated their way across the floor, apparently about someone named "Peeves." As they argued, one wearing a ruff and tights seemed to suddenly take notice of the group of gawking first years. "I say, what are you all doing here?" he asked, receiving no reply from the students.
*"New students!" said one, a quite pudgy man who looked like he belonged in a monastery. "About to be sorted I suppose?"
A few of the students gave shaky nods, still staying entirely silent in the face of the ghostly apparitions before them.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he said jovially, "My old house, you know."
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start." It seemed Professor McGonagall had returned while the students were distracted. The ghosts turned and, one-by-one, floated through the opposite wall.
"Now," said McGonagall, "form a line and follow me."
All of the students quickly hurried to form something that resembled a line, and were led out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.*
What Harry saw next truly amazed him. Sure, he had discovered a few things about magic before he had arrived at Hogwarts. But to see the enormous room filled with thousands of floating candles all hovering over the heads of the collection of students from the upper years, all crammed around four very long tables covered with golden plates and goblets… He could never have imagined anything like it. He turned his head towards the ceiling, which was a rich, velvety black pinpricked with stars.
From behind him, Hermione whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History." Harry nodded mutely, admiring the magical handiwork. Momentarily, his attention was drawn back to Earth as McGonagall silently set a four-legged stool before them. She proceeded to set down a rather rumpled-looking old wizard's hat. It was patched, and frayed, and looked like it hadn't been washed since the time of the Founders. He fought down a grimace at the grimy-looking thing. Everyone seemed to be staring at the hat on the stool, and the amount of anticipation in the room was palpable.
*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 Hufflepuffis 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 students burst into applause as the song came to its end, and the hat bowed to all four tables. Hermione equal parts relieved over not having a test and grossed out by the hygienic implications of putting that hat on her head. Harry had to agree with her on that one.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment in her hand. "When I call out your name, you will place the hat upon your head and sit on the stool to be sorted." She lifted the parchment to the light and began reading off names. Hannah Abbott, at the front of the list, walked up to sit on the stool, the talking hat covering her face for a few seconds until it suddenly cried "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The hat was removed from her head to much cheering and applause from the table to his right. He saw the Fat Friar waving at her with a jovial smile on his face.
He felt a little uncomfortable about what seemed to have just happened. Did that girl have her mind read? How much would the hat know? Would it be able to keep secrets? He took a deep breath and focused on his Occlumency momentarily to steady himself and cast out thoughts about Asa to the best of his ability, just in case. He watched as the kids before him were sorted, noticing that with some children the reaction was nearly immediate and with others it took a little longer as the hat seemed to be conflicted about where to put them. He heard McGonagall say, "Granger, Hermione!" and gave her a small wave as she passed him. He watched as the hat deliberated over her sorting for a good minute or two, apparently having a conversation with her while they sat there. The hat chuckled as he called out, "RAVENCLAW!" The table to his left clapped and cheered and Hermione nearly skipped off to join them.
Neville's name was called a little further down the list, and he rather timidly made his way up to the stool. The hat took a while weighing its options before it eventually shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" to much applause from the table far to his right. He found that choice interesting, wondering what the hat saw in Neville that made it place him in the house of the brave.
Malfoy was called up only a few minutes after Neville, and his sorting was the shortest of them all. The hat had barely grazed his head when it called out, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy went off to sit with his bookends looking highly pleased with himself.
There were much fewer unsorted students left now, and Harry sighed, bracing himself for what he knew was going to happen next. McGonagall made it through the list to the "P"s and eventually called out, "Potter, Harry!" He stepped forward, walking confidently to the stool and taking a seat. As the hat was being placed over his head, he heard the entire hall break out into whispered conversation over whether he was "The Harry Potter?"
The hat fell over his eyes and the world was silenced. Harry sighed softly and waited. "Hmm… Very difficult. Plenty of courage, yes… Oh, what an interesting mind you have Mr. Potter."
Harry raised his Occlumency higher, feeling threatened by the subtle intrusion. He had never had his abilities tested before, and barely felt a tickle as the hat breezed into his mind. The hat chuckled in his ear, "Oh don't worry, boy, I can't tell anyone your secrets. It's part of how Godric Gryffindor made me; no one, not even the headmaster, can get one word out of me about any student's sorting. It's been tried several times, I assure you, and never with success."
Harry felt that the hat was being truthful, and realized that it was a moot point since the hat had gotten through the defenses he had so quickly. He relaxed slightly and the hat continued speaking to him. "There we are. Bit of an odd place, you know. Spider webs? Ah, I see. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, I'll avoid that. Ohhh, what's this? Congratulations Mr. Potter! What an honor."
Harry sighed, still conflicted over letting the hat into that part of his mind. He had decided to trust the hat was being truthful about its protections, and just hoped he wouldn't regret it later.
"I think I know where to put you, Mr. Potter. Your wit will lead you to great heights in RAVENCLAW!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ HoNB ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: God that took forever. I'm really sorry guys, between getting sick and moving back into college life is a little hectic. I guess all I can say is shit happens. I should be updating about weekly from now on if nothing unforeseen throws itself in the way.
Also, I'm sorry about the large portions of this chapter that were more or less from the books, it feels unprofessional. But I'm trying to stick with canon unless there's a reason for something to be different. The Sorting Hat wouldn't change its song, for instance. Things will diverge from canon more as time goes on…