?: We don't want any.
Hagrid: Uh, professor, it's me Hagrid, with the first years.
McGonagall: Oh, right *comes out of a door* We still don't want any, but I suppose we should take them.
Hagrid: Alright, well, seeya kids.
Harry: And you're just gonna leave us with some strange woman?
McGonagall: Trust me, I'm much better hands to be in than Hagrid's. At least I didn't throw you onto your aunt and uncle doorstep from the street.
Harry: Say WHAT?!
McGonagall: Now, you will soon be sorted into your houses. This will be determined by what sort of person you are. If you're a brave, daring person, you will be in Gryffindor. If you are a clever, creative person, you will be in Ravenclaw. If you are an evil cun…ning person, you will be in Slytherin.
Neville: What about Hufflepuff?
McGonagall: Let's go in, shall we?
*group enters hall, the rest of the student body turns and stares at them in unison*
Harry: Yeah, that's not gonna freak out the kids who know nothing about the wizarding world and have no idea what's about to happen.
McGonagall: Now, when I call your name, you will sit on this stool, facing every single person in the hall except the teachers, the only ones mature enough to not judge you…except maybe Professor McFondles.
McFondles: I hope to see all of you in class real soon *licks lips*
McGonagall: Why the hell did we hire you? Anyway, *pulling out battered old hat* I will put this hat on your head, and it will read your mind to tell us which house will be the most appropriate.
Hermione: Did you say the hat will read our minds?
Sorting Hat: Indeed she did.
Ron: Explain that, Hermione. A talking hat that can read your mind.
Hermione: Well, the talking is simply artificial intelligence. As for the mind reading, I expect the people at Hogwarts have been in contact with our previous schools to gather what sort of student we were so that we'll be sorted into groups reflecting our skills, interests, and learning style, so they know how to teach us more effectively here.
Ron: I was being rhetorical.
Hermione: Wow Ron, that word had more than five letters. I'm impressed.
Ron: Fuck you.
Hermione: Not yet.
Shippers: SQUEE!
Sorting Hat: Now, before we begin, I'd best sing my song for the year…
McGonagall: That won't be necessary.
Sorting Hat: No, no I should begin *clears throat…or whatever a hat has* Oh you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge o…
McGonagall: Hannah Abbott.
Sorting Hat: Alright, fine, but just for that I'm going to make this kid a minor character and put her in the loser house.
Hannah: But I'm the daughter of future Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott.
Sorting Hat: You have done nothing to help your case. HUFFLEPUFF! *Hannah runs over to the Hufflepuff table, crying* Next victim.
McGonagall: Susan Bones.
*Susan comes up and sits on the stool*
Sorting Hat: Another throwaway character, huh? HUFFLEPUFF!
Narrator: And so, one by one, the Sorting Hat worked its way through all the students…
Sorting Hat: Well, this one is incredibly stupid…
Crabbe: Gah?
Sorting Hat: …but easily led. And considering who he's led by, better make it…SLYTHERIN!
Crabbe: Gah.
Sorting Hat: And you can take that Gregory Goyle kid too. Seriously, I almost had an aneurism reading all that stupidity, and don't intend to do it again.
*later*
McGonagall: Hermione Granger.
Sorting Hat: Finally, a character that actually does something. You're intelligence should place you in Ravenclaw, but fuck that you're going to GRYFFINDOR!
*later*
McGonagall: Neville Longbottom.
Sorting Hat: I'm sorry, could you repeat that last name again?
McGonagall: Longbottom.
Sorting Hat: Jesus fucking Christ, a pudgy kid with the name Longbottom? Rowling might as well have named you Neville Fatass. Well, let's see what you…huh, interesting. Apparently you're worthy of being in GRYFFINDOR!
Fred: Damn it, I thought for sure he was a Hufflepuff.
George: Pay up, brother.
*later*
McGonagall: Draco Malfoy.
Sorting Hat: Oh, come on. I already put his minions in SLYTHERIN! Why do we even need to do this?
*later*
George: You owe me 13 Sickles, Fred.
Fred: Just wait, I'll win it back.
McGonagall: Padma Patil.
Fred: Gryffindor.
Sorting Hat: RAVENCLAW!
Fred: Fuck.
George: 14 Sickles.
McGonagall: Pavati Patil.
Fred: HA! Twins. I've got this one. Ravenclaw.
Sorting Hat: GRYFFINDOR!
Fred: FUCK!
*later*
McGonagall: Harry Potter.
*entire hall goes quiet*
Harry: Well, this isn't creepy or anything. *puts Sorting Hat on his head*
Sorting Hat: Hmm, let's see, yes, a very good mind indeed. But where to place you?
Harry: *whispering* Not Hufflepuff, not Hufflepuff, not…
Sorting Hat: Oh, come on, no main character would ever suffer that fate. The only house you could possibly get into is GRYFFINDOR!
*Gryffindor table bursts into cheers as Harry sits at their table*
Harry: And with that, all the important people are sorted.
McGonagall: Ronald Weasley.
Harry: Like I said, there's nobody important left.
Dean: Hey professor, what about me?
McGonagall: Oh, just pick a table. Nobody cares about you *puts hat in Ron's head*
Sorting Hat: Oh, for God's sake, ANOTHER Weasley? Seriously, you people are like rabbits. Well, better put him with the other ones. GRYFFINDOR!
*Ron comes over to the Gryffindor table and sits uncomfortably close to Harry*
McGonagall: Now, before we begin, your Headmaster Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words. *McGonagall turns to see Dumbledore sleeping in his chair* Professor, wake up.
Dumbledore: Huh, wha, what? What are you people doing in my living room?
McGonagall: Let the start of term feast begin.
*food appears on the table in front of them*
Percy: Now students, let's show how polite and mature we can…
George: FOOD FIGHT! *flings whole roast chicken at the Hufflepuff table*
Percy: Every. Freaking. Year.
Fred: No it's not. I usually start it.
Nearly Headless Nick: May I join, boys?
Fred: How can we say no to you, Nick?
George: Easy, just say no. But we won't because we're nice guys.
Nearly Headless Nick: Why thank you. HEADS UP, BARON! *throws an entire tray of Yorkshire Puddings*
Harry: Is no-one going to explain why there's a ghost here?
Percy: Because sometimes dead people don't stay dead. Sir Nicholas here is the resident house ghost of Gryffindor.
Ron: You mean that's Nearly Headless Nick?
Nearly Headless Nick: *sigh* I guess you want me to show you how that's possible.
Harry: No, there's no need to *Nick shows how that's possible* And I've lost my appetite. Hey, who's that creepy looking guy?
Percy: Professor McFondles?
Harry: No, the one talking to Quirrell.
Percy: Oh, Professor Snape, the Potions teacher. Yeah, he actually wants to be the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, which is odd, because every year we seem to get a new one.
Harry: Why? What happens?
Percy: Well, the last three were Fred and George. Not too sure about the previous thirty or so.
Harry: And no-one thinks this is…AHH! *grabs scar*
Percy: What? What is it?
Harry: Nothing. I'll just keep it bottled inside like a good protagonist.
Dumbledore: Oh, I just remembered a few things. Keep the fuck out of the forest, and keep the fuck out of the third floor corridor on the right hand side. Unless you want to die, we won't stop you. Alright, goodnight.
*Percy begins leading first years up the stairs when some small rocks start flying at them*
Percy: God damn it Peeves, stop that.
George: Hey, that wasn't Peeves.
Peeves: Yeah, I've got sticks.
Harry: Oh good, another ghost.
Peeves: What did you call me?
Harry: Uhh…ghost?
Peeves: I am a poltergeist you uncultured little shit *throws every bundle of sticks at Harry. Harry uses Neville as a meat shield*
*later, at the entrance to Gryffindor tower*
Fat Lady: Password?
Percy: Caput Draconis.
Fat Lady: Are you sure?
Percy: Yes.
Fat Lady: Positive?
Percy: Move bitch, get out the way.
Fat Lady: Tisk tisk, Over a decade too early with that reference *opens up*
*in the common room*
Percy: Alright first years, off to bed. Boys on the right, girls on the left *after they'd left* I do hope that was the right way around.
?: Awfully pink for a boys dorm.
Percy: Damn it.
*later, when everyone was in the correct dormitory*
Neville: Alright, goodnight everybody *turns out the light*
*heavy breathing*
Harry: Ron, what are you…
Ron: Shh, just let it happen.
Harry: Oh God, turn the light on. TURN THE LIGHT ON!