Disclaimer: This is a song about a girl who wrote a fan fiction and forgot to write the disclaimer and got sued and was too poor to pay the fine and went to debtors' prison for the rest of her sorry life and lived in a Dickensian hell. Not.
AN: Thanks so much, everyone who has reviewed, favourited, subscribed, or simply enjoyed the story. It really means a lot to me. I'd like to try and send my thanks to all of you in private messages, but as a rule, I'm absent-minded and very busy. Bad combination. So if I don't, it's just me being an idiot. The reviews are cool; new at this, so I'm loving the fact that people actually read, comment, etc (it's sort of neat to know that someone on the other side of the world is reading you work, right?), and I actually get to read that you like the story (or dislike it) in a review – it's like sending me your own little story! Equivalent Exchange! Right, I'll shut up now…
Chapter 5: Of Hellos and Hats
Harry never thought he'd run straight into a wall. Actually, he had. He'd many times considered running straight into a wall for various reasons, but never once did he think he actually end up on the other side. The whole system seemed a little dodgy, to him, but apparently, it worked.
Shrunken trunk in his pocket and Brilliant Boundless Bag slung over his shoulder, Harry boarded the train at Platform nine and three quarters immediately, pushing through the crowd and darting far inside, finding an empty compartment and slamming the door shut, trying out one of the nifty locking charms he had found in his books. It worked. Thus, as the train filled up, Harry found himself comfortably and pleasantly alone, ignoring the occasional student who would knock on the door, asking for entrance.
Ere long, the train took off from the station. At first, Harry looked idly out the window, considering his arrival at Hogwarts. Based on what he had read, he figured that upon arrival, he and the other first years would be sorted into one of the four houses of Hogwarts, named after the Hogwarts Founders: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. The question was, how would they be sorted? Apparently, Gryffindor was the house of the brave and noble, Ravenclaw the house of the intelligent and clever, Hufflepuff the house of the loyal and hardworking, and Slytherin was the house of the ambitious and cunning. In other words, Gryffindor was for the jocks and clowns, Ravenclaw was for the nerds and geeks and artists, Hufflepuff was for the nice kids and the preps of the dedicated variety, and Slytherin was for the deviants and preps of the overachieving and/or snobbish kind. Harry really didn't know where he would fit in – he was energetic and occasionally on the rash side, and definitely bold, so he could be a Gryffindor; he was smart and rather clever, and he loved his books, so he could be a Ravenclaw; he worked hard on things that he cared about, and was very loyal to himself (and Jean, if he was alive), so perhaps he could be a Hufflepuff, though a selfish one…and he'd probably scare all the nice kids; he was also very good at getting his way, and had considered world domination as a viable career option more than once, so perhaps he'd do well in Slytherin. All in all, he reached no decisive conclusions – he supposed it didn't really matter what house he was in, in the end.
It did not take long for Harry to get bored of staring out the window, and even considered unlocking the door and letting someone else in, but decided against it in the end – in primary school, he had grown used to being left alone by the other children (out of fear of Dudley, and after rumours spread of Harry 'beating up' Piers, out of fear of him as well). But then a thought struck him: Jean had once said that he should only use the Major Arcana on special occasions. Thus, Harry had never used it before – but his first day of magic school counted as special, right?
Harry sat cross-legged on the seat of the compartment and pulled his B3 out of his pocket, shuffling around inside. After some difficulty, he managed to retrieve the set of twenty-two cards, tossing his bag on the ground. With a nervous grin, he began to shuffle the deck, closing his eyes as he remembered Jeans smooth, mesmerizing movements from their first and only meeting. He let himself relax into the feeling of the cards moving through his fingers, until he felt a sharp jolt run through his fingers, and he stopped, slowly dealing the cards into a half circle of seven, just as Jean had. Taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he turned over the first card: the Hermit, his past. That made sense – the last two years, he had kept to himself for the most part, learnt as much as he could, and even contemplated the meaning of life…which never turned out well. He nodded in acceptance of that interpretation and turned over the next one – Death, the present. The first thought that drifted to mind was that the train was about to crash – but he waited thirty seconds, and nothing happened, so he decided to take a more symbolic approach. Death symbolized change, rebirth, regeneration – and things were certainly changing. The next card, supposed to show what would influence him was the Wheel of Fortune. Destiny was his greatest influence? No, that wasn't ominous at all. Not at all. Obstacles – he overturned the next card, the one at the bottom of the half-circle, revealing the Tower; along with the Devil, one of the worst omens one could come across in the Major Arcana. At least he knew it wouldn't be his future card. Depicting a tower being destroyed by a bolt of lightning, the Tower symbolized chaos, ruin, destruction, and all around bad luck. Harry groaned as he ripped his eyes from the melodramatically intimidating image, turning to the next card he flipped over, his hope card – the Sun. Well that made him sound awfully optimistic. On the other hand, most of the objects on his list of things to do at Hogwarts began with 'find,' so he supposed he would be needing a lot of enlightenment. He turned over the next card, the path card finding the Fool, causing him to grin…before his mood dampened. Remember, he chided himself, That does not mean 'fool around.' It meant a journey – his best course of action was to journey forward, prepared to discover new things and undergo transformation. Once again, it made sense – and that left him with only one card, his future card. Biting his lip, he placed his hand over the card slowly, then turning it over in one quick motion, glaring at it expectantly. But to no avail. He squinted and adjusted his glasses – all he could see was a blur. Scowling, he glanced down at the other cards, finding them perfectly clear; which could only mean one thing…
He rose to his feet, kicking the compartment door violently, then glaring up at the ceiling, where he could have sworn he heard distant, mocking laughter.
"Damn you, Apollo! You're such a cruel bastard! Well, guess what, you tosspot, you have your fun, screw you! Just bugger off then! I don't care if I never hear from you again!"
Somehow, he got the feeling the god would be sticking around nonetheless.
Somewhere along the journey from Platform 9 ¾ , Harry must of fallen asleep, because one moment he was sitting on his seat fuming and muttering profanities at a Greek god, and the next he was blinking blearily, feeling the train come to a gradual halt.
Jumping to his feet, he peeked outside the compartment, and finding the other students fully clothed in their uniforms, he rushed over his bag, pulling out the uniform as the train stopped. Watching the train empty, Harry was only able, in the end, to messily fix his tie, and settled for simply throwing the robe over his grey jeans and black t-shirt. Who needed the stuffy uniform anyway? It was already dark out, no one would see.
Scurrying out of the train, Harry followed the deep, rough voice bellowing, "Firs' Years! Firs' Years over here!" But it was a friendly bellow, not at all like Vernon's, which made Harry smile.
Following the voice, Harry forced himself not to gawk when he found it coming from an enormous man – in fact, he was fairly sure, based on his research, that the man was at least part giant. Apparently, humans and giants could interbreed – Harry didn't want to know how.
"C'mon, over here, step in the boats! Careful now. Any more firs' years?"
Harry cast one more glance at the man before stepping into one of the least crowded boats, finding himself between a stiff bushy-haired girl with rather large front teeth and a plump, dark-haired boy who looked terribly nervous.
"No more'n four to a boat!" he heard the giant call.
"My name is Hermione Granger, who are you?"
Harry turned to the bushy haired girl, finding her staring at him with bright, eager brown eyes.
"I'm Harry," he returned, knowing better than to give out his last name.
The girl frowned slightly, but her expression immediately cleared and she gestured toward the soft-featured boy beside her. "This is Neville Longbottom. He's lost a toad. You haven't seen one by any chance, have you?"
Harry quirked an eyebrow at the introduction, then looked down into the water beneath the boat. "Perhaps it went swimming. You might be able to find him if you jumped in."
The girl, Hermione scowled at him disapprovingly, a look of horror crossing her companion's face. "You don't really think he's in there, do you? I'll never find him!" the boy, Neville cried.
Suddenly feeling guilty for his careless words, Harry attempted to smile reassuringly at the boy. "Or maybe he's waiting at the castle, or in one of the other boats. Toads don't like water as much as frogs, after all."
All traces of disappointment fell from Hermione's face, and she smiled amiably at Harry before turning back to Neville. "That's right, Neville, he'll show up eventually."
"Everyone in?" they suddenly heard the giant shout, as he seated himself in his own boat. "Right then – FORWARD!"
Smoothly, the boats departed from the dock, gliding over the black waters of the lake, shimmering with the evening starlight and the lamps that speckled the distant image of Hogwarts castle, a magnificent, stalwart fortress that managed to appear delicate and enchanting all the same, looming up against the grey-blue sky like a fantasy engendered straight out of the minds of the giddy, eager fleet of first years.
"It's beautiful…" breathed Harry as the castle came into full view, and he was able to see the details of the many towers and turrets ornamenting the stone structure.
Hermione nodded rapidly and forcefully. "I can't believe it's real, it's so amazing."
Harry turned to her amusedly. "Of course it's real. Amazing things can be real too, you know."
She scowled at him. "I didn't mean it like that," she snapped, "It was an expression, is all."
Harry smiled cheekily. "So it's not amazing?"
"I meant the first part, and you know it!"
"Er, guys?" Neville's timid voice broke in, causing Harry and Hermione to rest their intense gazes upon him, until they were interrupted.
"Heads down!" came the giant's friendly but loud voice as the boats near the front of the company reached the cliff upon which the castle stood; the group of children immediately ducked their heads as the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that veiled a wide opening in the cliff side. They drifted through a shadowy tunnel, until the boats stopped at a subterranean harbour of sorts, where they clambered out of the boats and onto a shore of little pebbles.
"Oi! I go' a toad here! Anyone missing a toad?" called the giant, holding up a rather fat toad for all to see.
Upon seeing the toad, Neville bounded up to the giant, crying out blissfully, "Trevor!" and hugging the toad tightly, thanking the giant profusely, causing him to scratch the back of his head bashfully.
"And they lived happily ever after," remarked Harry to Hermione, who seemed to be watching the scene unfold with no small amount of warmth. "I wonder if I'll be invited to the wedding."
Hermione turned to glare at him as the giant began to lead the first years forward, Neville making his way back over to them. "You're rather mean, you know, mocking him like that."
Harry looked at her, feigned sympathy in his eyes. "You're jealous, aren't you? It's alright, I'll pay more attention to you now."
Behind them, Neville giggled slightly, still clutching Trevor tightly in his arms.
Hermione glanced between them and huffed. "Boys."
"Everyone here?" the giants booming voice once again found them as he raised one of his magnificently enormous fists (which could easily kill a person, Harry mused), and rapped thrice on the castle door.
The eleven-year-olds jumped as the door was flung open, a tall, spindly witch wearing a pointed hat over her dark hair, peppered with grey, and a matching green robe. She looked over the children appraisingly, a stern expression tempered only with the slightest maternal softness on her face.
"Here's all the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the giant said. Ah, so this was who wrote the letters. No wonder they were so polite - the woman clearly wouldn't tolerate anything less.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." With a wave of her hand, the doors opened wider, ushering the group of students into a vast entrance hall of finely cut marble, lit by rows of glimmering torches. They follower her across the cold stone floor, a few of them glancing about at the fathomless ceiling above, as she led them into a small chamber to the right, from which they could hear the muffled voices of the older students. By this time, many of the students appeared quite nervous, fidgeting as they stood.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall with a soft Scottish lilt to her voice. "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," she finished, her eyes lingering on Neville's cloak, fastened under his left ear, on a red haired boy's nose, which was smudged with dirt, and finally on Harry, flashing when they noticed the jeans peeking out from under his robe. "I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
Immediately after she left, a torrent of hushed whispered erupted from the student body, Harry picking out pieces of conversation (whilst half-heartedly listening to Hermione chatter about all the spells she had learnt and wondering if they might come in handy at the sorting as she fussed over his tie) including the red-haired boy's exclamation "Fred told me it was a test, he said it hurts a lot!" causing him to snort. He also heard an inquiry, "Where's Harry Potter?" causing him to stiffen slightly, which he regretted when he saw a pale, blonde haired boy headed toward him, two beefy goons behind him.
"So, you're Harry Potter, are you?" he asked pompously.
Harry ignored the gasps that Hermione and Neville gave beside him. "That's what people say."
"Well I'm my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
It took all Harry had to bite back a laugh. "You're not related to any 'Bonds' are you?"
The boy looked at him, perplexed, before sneering. "I should think not. That's a muggle-" he spat the word "- name, isn't it?"
Harry shrugged noncommittally. "Going to introduce me to your friends?"
Malfoy glanced at the two boys behind him, answer carelessly, "Oh, this is Crabbe, and that's Goyle. And your friends?"
"They can introduce themselves."
At that Hermione stepped forward primly, sticking out a hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."
What looked like a scathing comment began to form on Draco's lips, before Neville also stepped forward, albeit timidly, saying "N-neville Longbottom."
Draco nodded at him slightly, glancing back at Hermione before turning to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizards and witches are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He stuck out a pale hand.
Well that sounded awfully foreboding. Poor boy, still living in the class structure of the nineteenth century, Harry thought bemusedly. He glanced down at the hand, before pulling his best condescending stare over his face. "Are you presuming that you are a better judge than I as to which associations are beneficial to my well-being, Mr. Malfoy?" He tried very hard not to stumble over the awkward grammar of the sentence, noting Hermione and Neville's shocked looks.
Draco's cheeks were stained pink as he attempted to rectify his words in a dignified manner, "Oh, no, I only meant that you should be careful… and I would be happy to help you hone your cautiousness."
Harry stared at the hand a moment more before he shook it, gleefully noting the Malfoy boy's relieved countenance. "I'm glad we got past that misunderstanding Draco, but you should know, I do what I want with whom I want, and nothing you say will change that."
Before the other boy could respond, he heard a collective screech from behind him. He spun around, finding a myriad of ghostly shapes drifting through the back wall, greyish forms observing the children below as they bickered.
What appeared to be a short, fat 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?"
Harry snorted.
Other than that, nobody answered, all of the first years glancing at each other nervously.
"New students!" the fat ghost answered for them, smiling cheerily at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few people nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he said. "My old house, you know."
Suddenly, a sharp voice interrupted the spectacle. "Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." It was Professor McGonagall. As the ghosts drifted off, she continued, "Now form a line and follow me." The woman led the first years through a doorway, ignoring their gasps as they continued forward.
The Great Hall was truly a sight to behold – lit by thousands upon thousands of candles floating high above the four tables where sat the older students, in front of glittering gold plates, goblets, and cutlery. At the far end of the hall, upon a slight dais, was a fifth table where were seated the teachers. Above, the ceiling of the Great Hall was formed like the nights sky, the occasional burst of magic jolting through it with a fiery glimmer.
Hermione leaned over and whispered to him, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
Harry nodded absently, looking up at the ceiling as a brief fiery burst lit it, suddenly grinning and singing softly,
"Smoke on the water, and fire in the sky…"
A few students, who Harry assumed were muggleborn, chuckled softly before Professor McGonagall glared back at them.
Once they were all gathered at the front of the hall, the professor silently placed a small four-legged stool in front of the students, on top of it a patched, frayed hat. It looked terribly old, and possibly dirty and lice-infested, Harry thought. Suddenly, the hall quieted, their eyes fixed on the hat, causing the first years to watch it intently now, none of them at all prepared for it to open its mouth and 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 folks 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!"
"Oh my god it's a singing hat," Harry groused as the entire hall burst into an applause, the hat bowing to each of the tables, "What's it talking about, 'don't be afraid?' We have to wear it, a bloody singing hat! I wonder if anyone's ever died of embarrassment…"
Hermione elbowed him sharply, before turning to glare at the red-haired boy who had just exclaimed, "So we've just got to try on the hat! I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll." Harry was starting to like this Fred person.
Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a long piece of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she declared, pausing a moment. "Abbot, Hannah!"
A girl with blonde pigtails stumbled up to the hat, placing it on her head, the hat nearly swallowing her whole face. There was only a moment's pause before –
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table at which were seated the group of students with yellow ties cheered and clapped as Hannah rushed over and sat down.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" it declared once again.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table second from the left clapped this time, and several of the students with blue ties stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.
A girl named "Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw as well, and the next girl "Brown, Lavender" was declared,
"GRYFFINDOR!" causing the table farthest to the left to explode with loud cheers.
One "Bulstrode, Millicent" went to "SLYTHERIN!" and soon after "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" was declared a Hufflepuff, Gryffindor "Finnigan, Seamus" following.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him, but urged her forward, and she ran forward, eagerly stuffing the hat over her head.
"GRIFFINDOR!" it shouted a few minutes later.
Harry heard the red-haired boy groan and glared at him, before smiling at Hermione.
Neville was called up soon after, the poor boy looking quite ready to faint before Harry patted him firmly on the back. He stumbled up the stairs and clumsily put the hat on. Neville's sorting was the longest yet, as it took a few moments longer than Hermione's to decide, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Poor Neville nearly ran to the Gryffindor table with the hat on.
The next sorting Harry paid mind to was of one "Malfoy, Draco." The hat had barely touched his head before it called, "SLYTHERIN!" Harry snorted, smirking when he noticed Malfoy, who had obviously heard him, glaring slightly at him.
A Moon, a Nott, a Parkinson, two twin Patils, and a Perks followed, Harry bouncing slightly as he waited for his turn. Finally, Professor McGonagall called out his name, "Potter, Harry!"
Harry tried very hard not to slump his shoulders when, as he made his way to the stool, he heard the ocean of whispers behind him:
"Harry Potter?"
"Did she really just say Harry Potter?"
"Is it the Harry Potter?"
"No way!"
"Look, it's him!"
The student body of Hogwarts was saved from Harry's death glare when the hat fell over his eyes.
"My, oh my, what to do with this one…."
Harry jumped when he heard the voice inside his head, just about ready to throw the hat off and dart.
"Oh, dear! Calm down, Mr. Potter, it's just me, the sorting hat."
Harry ground his teeth, hissing in his mind, "How the hell did you get in my head?"
"Why, Mr. Potter, how else do you think I sort students? I was made to do this."
"Well then get out! Now!"
"I'm afraid I can't, Mr. Potter, not until I've sorted you."
"Well then hurry up and get on with it."
"First, you have to let me."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"You have some powerful shields around your mind, Mr. Potter, almost as though…someone is guarding it for you. No, you will have to give me permission to see into your memories and your heart."
"My memories?" Harry thought to the hat, slightly panicked, "No, no way, they're mine!"
The hat sighed inside Harry's head. "If you want to be sorted, Mr. Potter, you will have to let me in."
"Why would I let you into my head, you're a bloody hat! How do you see memories anyway? Why would you expect me to trust you? You could tell anyone what you see! And don't swear on your honour, 'cause it doesn't matter, you're a hat! Like hell I'm going to let a hat in on all my secrets! A bloody talking hat at that! What if you decide to gossip with all the other talking hats? What then?"
"I cannot speak of what I see in your mind, Mr. Potter – your thoughts remain between you and I only, no one else can access them. As for how I get in your head, it is the same ancient magic that forbids me from telling anyone of what I find. It is perfectly safe, I assure you – I've been doing it for centuries. I cannot sort you without seeing your mind, and if you are not sorted, you cannot attend Hogwarts."
"How about we make a deal – forget the mind reading, sort me in the house with the least students, and I won't incinerate you?" Harry suggested feebly.
The hat chuckled nervously. "You are not the first student to threaten me Mr. Potter, I'm afraid it will get you nowhere."
"If you mess up something in my head, or tell anyone what you see, I'll forego the incinerating, and turn you into jerky, and feed you to a troll."
"Agreed."
Harry sighed shakily. "Fine. You have permission. Do your worst."
The hat chuckled, and then fell silent for a few moments, before it gasped, "Oh, oh my. A Seer, a true Seer at that. I haven't sorted one of your for many, many years."
Harry groaned impatiently. "…and?"
The hat chuckled again. "Now, now, Mr. Potter, patience is a virtue. Now let me see, where should you go? I could put you anywhere, really. Gryffindor – you're certainly brash enough, and oh…you're looking for adventure, aren't you? Quite the fearless one; in fact, you quite despise fear, don't you? Or Slytherin…my, my, Mr. Potter, you can be quite manipulative at times, can't you? And ambition, all that ambition, you crave power, you like it, don't you? And knowledge as well, you would love Ravenclaw – you're as clever as anything. And you're willing to work for it – a hard worker, determined, like a Hufflepuff, and you've already started forming bonds of loyalty. But where to put you?" The hat paused. "You'd probably murder all the Gryffindors in a week wouldn't you?"
"Not Hermione and Neville. Or that Fred guy."
The hat laughed. "And Slytherin, you'd do well, but you do not like to keep up pretences for too long; you are cunning, but you don't always enjoy it. And you speak your mind, which would not go over too well. Ravenclaw – they'd find you quite annoying sometimes, wouldn't they?"
Harry scowled mentally.
"And the Hufflepuffs, the poor Hufflepuffs, you'd scar them all for life. My, oh my, I haven't had a challenge like this in years."
"Well, how're you going to decide then? I don't have all evening, you know."
"Yes, yes," sighed the hat, "The trick is, Mr. Potter, I have to figure out your deepest desire, what matters most – what do you want most, Mr. Potter, where would you like to go?"
"I don't care, just put me somewhere."
The hat huffed. "Then what is it you want to achieve at Hogwarts? What is your endgame, Mr. Potter?"
Harry frowned – what did he want? He had money, he was famous, he was already making friends, he was away from the Dursleys for the year, and he had a whole new world before him. What did he need? What did he want? Who was he? And who did he want to be? He had no idea - and that in itself was far more disconcerting that he would have liked. "I…I don't know," he whispered brokenly, before the pieces began to merge together once again, and his voice gained strength, "I don't know, but," he took a deep breath, "I want to. I want to find out."
Harry felt the hat smile. "That will be a difficult task, Mr. Potter, and if I may offer some advice - you value truth and fearlessness far above all else...be careful, Mr. Potter, that you do not sacrifice too much for them."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure. Are you going to sort me, or what?"
"Of course…well, in that case, it better be:
"RAVENCLAW!"
Wow...another chapter - I don't think I've ever written anything so quickly in my life. Thoughts?