Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I do not own.
A/N This is the longest chapter so far, so I hope you enjoy. If anyone has any comments, constructive criticism, question or anything else, please feel free to review or PM me!
As the sun started to set and an echoing voice informed them they would soon be reaching the school, they all began to get a little nervous, yet each tried to hide it. When the train crawled to a stop, people pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold, his thick Hogwarts robes doing little to keep him warm.
Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice:
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me. Any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. The boy who had lost his toad at the platform seemed to still be missing him, because he sniffed once or twice and his hands were empty.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec." Hagrid called over his shoulder. "Jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud 'oh' of awe. The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Serena, Thomas and Phoebe quickly sandwiched themselves into one of the boats. Hagrid had one boat all to himself "Everyone in? Right then. FORWARD!"And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass.
Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. Serena, who was sitting next to Harry, turned to smile at him, but he was in too much awe to return the gesture.
"Heads down!" Hagrid warned as the first 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 harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
It was still dark, except for Hagrid's lamp. Thomas dipped his hands in the cold water and then grabbed Phoebe from behind in an attempt to scare her. Harry heard more than he saw the crunch of a fist against a nose. He and Serena quickly turned around and pretended not to know them as Hagrid yelled out a warning about fighting.
"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid asked after a few moments of checking the boats as people climbed out of them.
"Trevor!" The boy cried blissfully, holding out his hands to accept the toad.
Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, 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.
"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.
The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross. Then she winked at Phoebe, who waved slightly in return, and Harry thought maybe she wasn't all that bad.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid announced.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide and led the first years inside.
The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls 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, but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.
"Welcome to Hogwarts." Professor McGonagall started. "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 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 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 Thomas's bloody nose and one boy's cloak that was fastened under his ear. Harry nervously tried to smooth down his hair. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." She left the chamber.
Harry swallowed hard.
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" He asked Thomas, who seemed to know the most about the wizarding world.
"Some sort of test, I think." Thomas answered distractedly, his voice distorted because of his injured nose. Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet. What on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived.
He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except one bushy haired girl, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her.
He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom. Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air. Several people behind him screamed.
About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying:
"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-."
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost... I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.
"New students!" The Fat Friar cried, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded mutely. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."
"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. "Now, form a line and follow me." Professor McGonagall instructed.
Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy Phoebe with Serena behind him and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. 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. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up there, 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. It looked real, though logic told him a ceiling should be there...
Harry quickly looked down again as 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. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house. Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. 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 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 whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
"What the bloody... What did I just witness?" Phoebe demanded in shock. Even Thomas was squinting past his swollen nose in confusion.
Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.
Professor McGonagall now 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. Abbott, 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 moments pause...
"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
"Black, Phoebe." A hush came over the Great Hall as Phoebe strode up to the stool and plunked herself down, shoving the hat on her head, with perhaps a bit more force than necessary.
Ah, a Black. Never thought I'd see another one of those... She heard in her mind, as clearly as someone talking into her ear.
Just sort me and let me leave. Phoebe thought back.
You're quite cunning, quite ambitious. You'd do anything to advance yourself... Phoebe knew where the Sorting Hat was going with that.
Not Slytherin. I'd prefer not to be compared to my father every day of my life. How about Ravenclaw? That's the smart house, right?
You do have a good mind, a nice drive for learning...
Ravenclaw it is! Hooray! House pride and all that jazz. You wanna announce Ravenclaw now?
But you're also brave. Determined. A nice heart on you as well... The hat continued and Phoebe had the sinking feeling she was going to be there all night.
Make up your non-existent mind, please. Phoebe urged.
How rude of you. I have quite the mind. However, I'm going to go with...
"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted to the entire hall. Phoebe felt McGonagall take the hat off her head for her as she had an unintelligent moment consisting of choking on her own spit. As she recovered, she stood and hurried to sit down at the Gryffindor table.
People clapped and cheered for her as she sat down. A pair of red-haired twins catcalled her and she showed them a hand gesture no one needed to know sign language to understand. The twins howled with laughter and she turned her attention back to the sorting.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted 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' was another Gryffindor. 'Bulstrode, Millicent' then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.
"Granger, Hermione!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville.
"GRYFFINDOR!" Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to McGonagall as she called up Lupin, Thomas.
There's a good brain on you, lot's of wit and creativity. A smart individual, you are.
Just don't put me with the stuck-up Ravenclaws. Thomas moaned internally.
You're not overly modest yourself, young one. Very ambitious... Bold. Brave.
Gryffindor, huh? I think you mean I should be in Gryffindor. Thomas tried to convince him.
Yes, you'll do fine there. It'll be...
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Thomas pumped his fist in the air and danced off to Gryffindor table as all the students choked with laughter. Professor McGonagall had been pursing her lips very tightly since Phoebe's public hand gesture and, with the dancing, seemed to be counting in her head to calm herself.
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', then 'Perks, Sally-Anne' and then:
"Pettigrew, Serena."
"Larkin." Serena mumbled under her breath but hurried over to the stool. As soon as it was on her head, it began talking to her.
Loyal, hard-working, dedicated... You certainly would do well in Hufflepuff.
Then why haven't you sent me there yet? Serena questioned.
I'm searching...
For what? She was almost afraid to ask.
What drives you. It answered simply.
Uh... Family, I guess? I like art and stuff, but I wouldn't say it drives me. I like animals. Is this what you're looking for. I don't know what to tell you.
You're dedicated. You'd do well in Hufflepuff, yes...
Then why haven't you sent me there yet? Serena repeated.
I'm deciding.
Do I get a choice? She asked hesitantly. Wasn't this supposed to be the hat's decision? Yet he talked to her, so that must mean her opinion mattered, at least somewhat.
My dear, this is all about choices!
Put me in Gryffindor. I know that Harry will be there too and Phoebe and Thomas are already there... I can be a good Gryffindor, I promise. Serena couldn't believe she was trying to convince an old, ratty hat of something. She hadn't expected that to be her first challenge at Hogwarts; her mother could have warned her about it.
I believe you...
"GRYFFINDOR!" She handed the hat back to McGonagall and hurried to take her place beside Thomas and Phoebe.
"You were almost a hat-stall." Someone said.
"A what?"
"If the hat takes more than five minutes to decide, it's a hat-stall." Someone else explained. She wondered how long she truly had been up there; it had all seemed to take seconds for her, but she had been fairly caught up in her own world.
"Potter, Harry."
As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?" 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. The next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.
Hhmm, a voice hummed in Harry's ear, difficult. Very difficult. 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? The small voice said. 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. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Serena hugged him while Thomas did a whoop like a war cry and Phoebe gave him a thumbs up.
Harry could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat the giant, Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back; the giant was large, but he seemed friendly enough. And 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. Harry spotted Professor Quirell, too, the nervous young man that he and Hagrid had met in the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.
There were only three people left to be sorted, all of which were sorted quickly. 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. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago. 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, his voice loud enough to carry across the entire hall. "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.
"Is he a bit mad?" He asked uncertainly, not directly the question at anyone in particular.
"Probably." There was a hint of admiration in Thomas's voice.
"Look, Harry." Serena whispered in awe.
Harry's mouth fell open as he looked down at the table. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast 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. It was all delicious.
"That does look good." The ghost in the ruff said sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak,
"Can't you-?"
"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years. I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."
"I know who you are!" A boy said suddenly. "My brothers told me about you. You're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"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?"
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.
"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 Draco Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
"How did he get covered in blood?" Phoebe asked with unusually great interest.
"I've never asked." Nearly Headless Nick said 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 flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding...
As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half." Seamus said. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out." The others laughed.
"What about you, Neville?" Thomas asked, pointing his fork at the boy.
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch." Neville said. "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."
"I'd ask for a refund." Phoebe teased with a smile.
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. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. 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.
"Harry, what's the matter?" Serena asked worriedly.
"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's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" He wondered aloud.
Serena hesitantly nudged a boy that looked to be a sibling of the twins that had catcalled Phoebe and repeated the question.
"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 twins. "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."
"Cheerful." Phoebe muttered, half asleep at the table.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. 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 favorite tune 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 twins and a snickering Phoebe 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!"
The Gryffindor first years followed their Prefect through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice they were led through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.
A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them and as Percy the Prefect took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.
"Peeves." The Prefect whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice: "Peeves, show yourself"A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. "Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?" 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. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" Percy barked. Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed. "You want to watch out for Peeves. The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him; he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."
At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
"Password?" She said.
"Caput Draconis." Percy said and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it, though a few needed a leg or a hand up, and found 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. At the top of a spiral staircase, as they were obviously in one of the towers, the girls found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Phoebe and Serena found themselves sharing a room with Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil while Harry and Thomas found themselves in a room with Neville Longbottom. Seamus, Dean and Ron Weasley had another room to themselves
That night, the four new friends fell asleep easily, with their excitement and joy of what the next day would bring threatening to bubble over.