CHAPTER FOUR: THE LAST OF THE SORTED
Fred and George left the Hogwarts Express still gaping, open-mouthed at Lyra's story. Sure, many things had happened to them, but when they rarely did something truly heroic, they would always get praise, no matter how little. She was, apparently, the new devil.
Harry was starting to notice that Fred and George were acting differently after they left the train. They weren't joking and laughing as they always did, but walking silently with that girl he saw in the dream. Soon everyone sat down at the house tables.
Dumbledore stood in front of them all and soon they all fell silent. Lyra's eyes glittered as she stepped into what looked to be the dining hall. The ceiling was set to look like the night sky, in a method unknown to her. The entire academy was set as elaborately as any of the finest colleges. She was home.
Fred pointed his wand at the list of the students about to be sorted and began to mutter an incantation. Lizzie Brooks was hastily scribbled at the end of the list.
Harry and Ron were nearly dieing of starvation when Dumbledore called out Zwiren, Steven, and groaned slightly as Dumbledore looked puzzled at the list for a while before saying anything. He shakily called out, "Brooks, Lizzie."
The girl that had sat down next to them on the train earlier stood up slowly and walked up to the stool in the front of the hall. She tried as best she could to walk nervously up the isle, as she had watched all the other children do, Pan hidden in he slightly too large school clothes. Once she had gotten past the amazement of seeing a talking hat, she had suddenly become aware that she would have to lie nonstop, not that that was ever a problem. They lifted the oversized old hat over her head. She looked up at it in fear, trying desperately not to laugh.
"Hmm..." said the hat to her. "Your definitely not a Huffleuff, Nor Ravenclaw either. You're very slick, I can tell; you think you can weasel out of any problem. You're also brave, though, braver than nearly anyone else in this room, in fact."
"Slyther-" the hat almost called out, before it said one more thing,
"Wait," it said, "You're a Muggle, aren't you. You don't belong here."
Apparently, not a single other person heard the hat say this.
"Don't ... say...a word." she muttered through gritted teeth.
"Ah... Griffindor!" it shouted.
The entire Grifindor table applauded as she walked proudly down. She sat between Fred and George, trying as best she could to keep Pan hidden. This was going to be a LONG charade.
End of chapter four