All first year students waited in the entrance to the Great Hall. Hagrid had told them to do so and then he'd disappeared through the doors to the Great Hall. Excited as they were, no one could keep quiet while they waited. Hermione stood beside Draco, watching her peers. They were thirty-something, all in Hogwarts robes. She saw Harry Potter standing with that ginger boy from earlier on the other side of the crowd. He looked just as lost as she felt. Draco had immediately found several familiar faces in the crowd. He was now talking about the Sorting with Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and two dull boys he called Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione only listened. No one had said a word to her since they had sat down in the boats. Pansy Parkinson completely ignored her. Crabbe and Goyle had barely bothered to say 'Hello'.

As she wondered wether they even wanted her there, Blaise spoke to her;

"What house do you think you'll be in, Granger?"

"Me?" Even Pansy was now looking at her now. "I'd like to be in Rawenclaw, I think. I must get the best grades possible, whatever it takes, otherwise dad won't let me come back next year." She hadn't meant to say that, but now it was too late. She tried to distract them by asking Blaise the same question he'd asked her. Surprisingly, Pansy was the one who answered instead.

"We'll all be in Slytherin, even Crabbe."

"How do you know?" Hermione frowned. "In Hogwarts; a history it says that only the Soting Hat can decide."

"We're all purebloods, that's why." Pansy retorted.

"I...I don't understand what that means." Hermione took a step back. Pansy looked furious.

"Of course you don't understand," She shrieked. "you're not a real witch!"

"That's enough!"yelled Draco, stepping between the two girls. "Come on Hermione, let's wait somewhere else."

He took her hand started to make his way towards Harry Potter and the ginger boy.

"Why are you going that way?" she asked in a surprised tone.

"I figured it might make sense to befriend Potter." He looked back at her. "My father always says it's good to be friends with important people and Harry Potter is important."

"Why is he so important, really?"

"I'll tell you later." he said as they reached Potter.

"Hello, I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He reached out his hand towards Potter. "You're Harry Potter aren't you?" Before Potter had the time to react, however, the ginger boy beside him interrupted;

"Sod off Malfoy!" His ears red and annoyance written all over his face. To Hermione it seemed like he wanted to say 'I was here first!' "Harry doesn't need you!"

"Please, as if you're from a better family than me." Draco spat.

"Draco, now you're the one being rude!" Hermione pushed him aside and apologised to Potter and Weasley. "Please excuse him." She smiled at the boys. "I'm Hermione Granger." She added.

"Harry Potter" said Harry Potter and shook her hand.

"Ron Weasley" muttered Ron Weasley and refused her outstreched hand.

"Silence!" A stern-looking woman in green robes and her hair in a tight bun had appeared at the top of the stairs in the entrance. "May I have your attention? You will now follow me into the Great Hall in orderly fashion and be sorted into one of our houses." She walked down the stairs towards the doors to the Great hall. They flew up before her and Hermione and Draco, standing right behind her, gasped as they saw the Great Hall for the first time.

One by one they were called to come to the front of the hall, to be sorted by a hat so old it was almost fallin apart. Hermione went first, and the hat yelled out Gryffindor after only a moment of consideration. It took even less time for the hat to yell Slytherin when it was Dracos turn to be sorted. He looked over at Hermione with an apology written all over his expression as he walked over to the Slytherin table. Hermione hoped with all that she had that they would still become friends. Ron Weasley was also sorted into Gryffindor without much fuss, but when the stern-looking witch called for Harry Potter all of the Great Hall went deadly silent. As Harry walked towards the hat the whispering started.

"Is it really him?"

"11 years old already."

"Can you see the scar?"

The hat pondered on its decision for quite a while before yelling Gryffindor at the top of its lungs – if it had any.