The tall man reached up and rapped three times on the large oak door. The door swung open at once, as if it had been waiting for his knock. In the doorway, a tall, rail-thin woman in emerald-green robes and a tall black hat stood. Her expression was stern, and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the large man.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
She opened the door wider, so that the students could get through. Harry, Ron, Dean and Seamus pushed through with the crowd of their fellow first years. Harry tried to stick close to the other boys. The entrance hall looked just like the ones in the story books that Aunt Petunia used to read to him and Dudley. The dark walls seemed to shimmer in the torch light, and Harry couldn't even see the ceiling.
"Wow." He whispered.
"Come on Harry." Ron shoved him, and Harry reluctantly stopped gazing at his surroundings and followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor.
As they neared another set of large oak doors, Harry started to hear the tell-tale drone of hundreds of voices.
"The rest of the school must already been eating." Dean whispered.
"Unfair!" Ron exclaimed. "We're the ones that have to take the test-shouldn't we eat first?"
"Test?" Harry asked, suddenly alarmed. His stomach dropped-they were going to have to prove that they were magical enough to go to school!
"Yeah," Ron said, "Fred and George said that every first year is tested before they put them in a house."
"What kind of test?" Seamus spoke for the first time since they entered the castle. Harry was a little comforted to see that Seamus looked just as nervous as he felt.
"I dunno." Ron said, shrugging, "They wouldn't tell me. But they said it was really hard-Bill barley passed it."
Seamus gulped.
Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school." She said, "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," she continued. "Please wait quietly."
"Sorting?" Harry whispered as Professor McGonagall swept out, shutting the door behind her.
"Yeah." Ron said, "They're going to use the test to divide us up into Houses. There's four of them. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."
Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test in front of the whole school? He hadn't expected that the test would happen in front of everyone, the moment he arrived at school. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. He kept his eyes fixed on the door.
"Which one do you want to be in?" Dean asked Ron.
"My whole family's been in Gryffindor." Ron said. Harry noticed that he suddenly looked very pale, "I mean everyone. I don't know what they'll do with me if I go anywhere else."
Harry noticed Draco Malfoy standing across the room, talking quietly to Crabbe and Goyle.
"Which house do you think they'll be in?" he asked Ron, nodding towards the sullen looking group.
"Slytherin." It was not Ron, but Seamus who spoke. "My mum said anyone who's ever been bad's been in Slytherin. That was You-Know-Who's house and everything."
Ron nodded. "My dad's said the same."
Harry's stomach plunged, Voldemort had been to Hogwarts? No one had told him that.
Professor McGonagall returned, pulling open the door with a flourish and peering down at the clustered first years.
"Alright everyone, form a line and follow me."
Harry felt as though his legs had turned to jello. It took all of the strength in his body to step into the now forming line and walk out of the back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Even in his petrified state, Harry had to admit that the Great Hall was a marvelous sight. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.
He heard a girl whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." from somewhere behind him.
Professor McGonagall led the first years up the center of the Great Hall and silently placed a four-legged stool before them. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.
Harry had no idea what to make of her strange behavior. Was this the test? He glanced at Ron who looked back at him blankly. Dean and Seamus seemed equally confused. Harry noticed suddenly that everyone else in the Great Hall-teachers and students alike-were now staring at the hat. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide, almost like a mouth - and the hat began to sing.
Harry was so shocked he could do nothing but gape at the hat for a few moments. A hat! Singing!
"Is this part of the test?" he whispered to Ron.
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;
"Dunno." Ron whispered back.
"Will you two be quiet?" a rather bossy sounding girl whispered from behind them, "I want to hear what it's singing."
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
"Well we're trying to talk." Ron hissed back, glancing over his shoulder. Harry didn't turn, he didn't want to draw too much attention, he was sure they were not supposed to be talking during the song.
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 Great Hall exploded into applause when the hat was finished. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A flushed looking girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, which fell right down over her eyes. There was a small pause—
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
The table directly to their right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry" and "Brocklehurst, Mandy" both went to the Ravenclaw table, which was on their left. Harry thought that the people sitting at the Ravenclaw table looked like very odd birds indeed.
"Brown, Lavender" Professor McGonagall called.
A very pretty blonde girl ascended the podium and sat on the stool. Harry noticed that she was trembling slightly, but seemed to be trying very hard not to look afraid.
The hat barely paused for a second.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling as Lavender Brown hurried to sit with her new classmates.
As the sorting went on Harry noticed that the hat sometimes shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. Seamus was sorted into Gryffindor after a pause, but for some students the hat couldn't seem to make up its mind.
"Granger, Hermione!"
A girl with fizzy brown hair and large front teeth practically sprinted to the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat over her head. The hat was quiet for quite a while before finally shouting;
"RAVENCLAW!"
A horrible thought struck Harry as he watched the frizzy haired girl run to sit at her table. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?
He watched a chubby, terrified looking boy make his way up to the stool. The hat took a full three minutes to decide. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," the boy ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."
Draco Malfoy did not seem nervous at all when his name was called, much to Harry's disappointment. Seamus' prediction came true. The hat had barely touched his blonde head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
Finally, after a few more names- "Potter, Harry!"
"Good luck mate." Ron whispered, and Dean clapped him on the shoulder.
Harry stepped forward, suddenly noticing that whispers had broken out like little hissing fires all over the hall. 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.
"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. Harry jumped. "You're a difficult one. More difficult than expected. There's talent, intelligence, courage, and a need to protect those close to you. So where shall I put you?"
Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. As hard as he could.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice continued. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you're sure - better be GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. Percy, Ron's oldest brother, got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite what appeared to be a ghost dressed in 14th century attire. Trying not to appear rude, Harry smiled and nodded at the man. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.
He could see the High Table properly now. The large man named Hagrid smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back. The man seemed very kind. Next to Hagrid sat a very nervous looking young man in a purple turban. He seemed not to want to make eye contact with anyone, so Harry stopped looking at him—he didn't want to scare any teacher. And then, Harry saw him. There, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.
"Thomas, Dean,"
Harry's attention snapped back to the sorting. Dean walked up to the stool with as much confidence as anyone, and sat down. The hat didn't even pause.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry cheered with the rest of his new house as a beaming Dean came to join him at the Gryffindor table.
"Look at that Harry-we're in the same house." Dean whispered as he sat down next to Harry and across from Seamus.
Harry nodded and beamed back. He was glad that Dean and Seamus were in the same house as he was-now if only Ron would be sorted into Gryffindor.
As though reading his thoughts Professor McGonagall called out;
"Weasely, Ronald!"
A green looking Ron stumbled forward. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Dean, Seamus, and Harry all applauded a very red-faced Ron as he joined them at the table.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy.
Ron rolled his eyes as his brother shook his hand very formally.
One more student was sorted, becoming a Slytherin, and then the Sorting was finished. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
"What happens now?" Dean whispered. Percy Weasely shushed him.
Albus Dumbledore rose 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!"
With that, he sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. Fortunately he didn't have to decide because suddenly the empty dishes in front of him had become laden with food.
Puddings, sausages, roasts and potatoes were suddenly piled high. It was more food than Harry had ever seen in his life. Aunt Petunia had always struggled to make ends meet and had kept her little family on a very tight budget. Harry had never been allowed to eat as much as he'd like, not that he had minded. But now, Harry filled his plate with a little of everything and began to eat like he had never eaten before.
"Did you hear about what happened at Gringotts?" Seamus was asking Ron. Ron nodded gravely while shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"What's Gringotts?" Harry asked.
"It's a wizarding bank." Percy Weasely said, "It's where you would have exchanged muggle money for wizarding money."
Ahh, Gringotts, that did ring a bell. Aunt Petunia had gone there to get money to buy Harry's school things. According to her, his parents had left him 'quite a lot' of wizarding money, whatever that meant.
"What happened at Gringotts?" Harry asked.
"It's been all over the Daily Prophet," said Seamus, "Someone tried to rob a high security vault."
Harry stared.
"Really? What happened to them?"
"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My mum says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it." Seamus nodded importantly.
Ron looked worried, "That's bad. Gringotts is supposed to be impossible to break into."
Seamus chuckled, "Yeah, supposed to be."
Harry frowned as he looked back at his partially cleared plate. You-Know-Who, Voldemort. He suddenly wished that he didn't know what those words meant.
Harry glanced back up at the staff table, making eye contact with a hooked nose man with dark, greasy hair that was sitting next to the nervous man in the turban. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.
"What is it?" asked Dean.
"N-nothing."
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 are those teachers?" Harry asked Percy.
"The one on the right-the one with the turban-that's Professor Quirrell. He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He's young-he graduated when I was in the third year, but he knows his stuff. They say that he had a bad run in with some mummies or something-that's why he's so twitchy. The one next to him-that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he's always wanted Defense." Percy paused then added, "Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
Before Harry could ask Percy any questions-say why a teacher would glare at him like Snape had-Dumbledore stood once more and the remnants of the food disappeared from the plates.
"Ahern - 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 were snickering rather conspicuously.
"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."
Harry and Dean laughed, but they were one of the few who did.
"What does that mean Percy?" Ron asked.
"It means the third floor is off limits." Percy said, frowning at Dumbledore. "Dumbledore never says anything without a good reason."
"And now," Dumbledore said, "Bedtime. Off you trot!"
Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, and the rest of the Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase.
Harry was very tired, but not too tired to appreciate the sheer wonder of the castle around them. The portraits whispered to one another as they passed, ghosts floated through the walls and the floor. Every once in a while, Harry could have sworn he saw one of the suits of armor that lined the halls move. He was so enchanted by the castle, that he barely noticed that they had stopped until he almost collided with Dean.
They were stood in at the end of a corridor. In front of them hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
"Password?" she asked. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall.
They all hopped through it one by one to find themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. Harry, Dean, Seamus, Ron and several other first year boys climbed to the top of the tower to find three dorms, each marked with a list of names. The boys were released to find that they had all been placed together in one dorm, along with the chubby boy named Neville Longbottom. They said goodnight to their fellow first years and pushed open their door to find their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Fidelius was already curled up on Harry's pillow, purring contently.
Exhausted, the five changed into their pajamas and climbed into bed. His dorm mates fell asleep almost instantly, but Harry's night was not restful. He slept fitfully, dreaming of turbans, Potion teachers, and flashes of green light.