Harry amidst the Vaults of Stone
Chapter 19
Note: If you have a particularly strong attachment to your suspension of disbelief, feel free to skip the Sorting Hat's song.
"Welcome to Hogwarts."
The stern-faced witch surveyed the assembled first year students, face inscrutable.
Then, "Please follow me," she said, and led them into a huge hall.
Compare the Harry Potter walking through the Hogwarts doors to some Harry Potter who might otherwise have been. Perhaps a Harry Potter where a decision had been made differently; a Harry Potter in some strange world where he had not been taken by goblins from the doorstep of his relatives.
This boy is taller and healthier, if also considerably more pale. This is a boy as accustomed to staff as to wand, dressed in practical leather under his robes. A boy permanently wondering at the world around him; but it is a wonder coupled with a dedication to the pursuit of the true forms and workings of things.
Such traits are not overly common amongst eleven-year-olds. But a boy who grew up asking "why?" in a society that usually asked "how?" might have developed many strange traits.
A feral, toothy smile sometimes flashes across the face of this Harry Potter, when he is not grimacing. The smile is one which might make women swoon someday, but it looks particularly strange and nasty on an eleven-year-old.
This Harry Potter, like his theoretical muggle-raised counterpart, is still entering a foreign world, but his background could not have been more different. Conditioned to excel instead of blend in, taught to work with his hands instead of to obey. Respectful of authority figures, but not a blind follower of them. A boy who appreciates the learning of skills and the true way of things, instead of a boy who appreciates being left alone.
A boy like this, raised by those who valued cunning and trickery and hard work and skill, could be described as 'precocious'.
Harry admired the old marble stonework as he passed, and heard the rumble of many voices behind another door.
They passed into an antechamber with an elaborate tapestry across one wall. The figures seemed to be moving. Harry's focus drifted back to it after Professor McGonagall began to speak. His inattentiveness was due to the fact that he was hearing essentially the same speech which Filius had given. In fact, even Hermione had gone into greater detail on the train. Gryffindor valued the flame of courage, Slytherin was founded in fluidity and resourcefulness, Ravenclaw was for those who built castles in the air, and Hufflepuff was earthy and well-grounded. Easy enough to grasp.
He eventually tuned back in to hear about dormitories, house points and the house cup, but this was all rather more abstract and harder to follow.
"The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes. Please wait quietly and make sure you are respectable."
The professor walked briskly out.
The other students began to talk amongst themselves, but with a nervous air.
Harry looked around. Padma seemed to have her arm forcibly looped through her twin's. She was glowering at Blaise, who was silently laughing at her behind the other girl's back.
The long-haired Terry Boot tugged on his sleeve. He looked worried. "Harry, somebody's saying we have to conjure the four elements in front of the whole school, and the one we do best determines where we're Sorted. I didn't know we'd have to do magic right at the beginning!"
Four elements?
Before Harry could reply, a short, excited-looking girl jumped in. "My cousin said we have to fight one of the teachers, and if we win we get to choose our House, but if we don't manage to land a blow we get put in Hufflepuff!"
Harry kept his expression blank, trying to make some sort of sense out of all that. Meanwhile, she was staring directly at him.
"Fight a teacher?" said a boy with an accent Harry couldn't identify. "A boy in my compartment was saying it was a troll we had to take on."
The girl ignored this contribution. "Oh wow... you're Harry Potter!" This drew the attention of the nearest students. "I'm Tracey." She made no move to extend her hand, and he was hesitant to offer his own while she was still fixedly staring at his scar.
"Tracey..."
"Tracey Davis. I bet you could beat any of the teachers."
"There's a Hat-" he tried weakly.
Her eyes were lit with excitement. "Will they let us choose which professor to fight, do you think?"
"I think you're going to be disappointed," said Harry, shaking his head at Terry, who appeared to be unsure whether to believe it. "I do not believe we have to fight a teacher. Or a troll."
"I really hope not," said Terry, biting his lip. "I've barely eaten today, I didn't know the train ride was going to be so long."
"But my cousin!" Tracey wailed. "He showed me a shield charm and everything, so that I'd have an edge!"
Harry sighed, and gave in. "Well, don't pick Professor Flitwick," he said. "He might look small, but he knows thousands of spells and he is very fast."
At that moment, Professor McGonagall returned and led them into the Great Hall, indicating they should form several lines on one side of the vast chamber, where they were able to see most of the proceedings. Those lines quickly devolved into a loose, uneasy huddle.
Harry looked around from his position in the middle. Candles filled the air, providing a constant glow. The plates and cups on the long tables absolutely shone beneath it; his fingers itched to see whether the metalware was real gold. It seemed unlikely.
The students themselves were chattering each other and peering at the newcomers, some standing up to get a better look. A few pearly silver shapes sat amongst the assembled school. Another was seated at the head table nearby, and Harry watched it thoughtfully, wondering about its significance. The figures were ghosts, obviously – goblins didn't have them, not exactly, but he was familiar with what they were meant to be.
Long, beautiful banners, in what were obviously the house colours, hung above each student table. Far above them, the sky was studded with stars in one lonely little patch; clouds had covered the rest. Harry thought he had read something about the ceiling of the Hogwarts Great Hall, but couldn't remember what. Presumably there was some sort of invisible shield to stop the surface weather getting in. Harry hoped it would hold up – he had experienced rain once, and didn't like it.
Somebody poked him in the back. "Dumbledore," Blaise hissed, pointing. "Not making a good case for his own sanity, is he?"
Harry's gaze followed the pointing finger. A white-bearded wizard he vaguely recognised was dressed in resplendent pink robes covered in blinking eyes. He seemed to be amusing himself turning pieces of cutlery into live squirrels and back again, a fact which had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the hall.
The laughter and conversations dwindled down to nothing as Professor McGonagall placed a ragged dark grey hat on top of a wooden stool. The stool shared the same appearance as the hat: something that had seen better days.
At the head table, Dumbledore turned a particularly large red squirrel back into a gravy jug, tucked his wand into his sleeve, and leaned forward to watch. Professor McGonagall stepped back, leaving everyone's attention focused on what Harry assumed was the Hat of Gryffindor.
There were long seconds of silence, and then finally a long, ragged tear in the brim opened wide, like a mouth. It rippled, and the Hat twisted towards the group of assembled first year students for a moment.
Then the Hat spoke, in a chirpy, friendly tone. Harry realised he had been expecting a deeper, more majestic voice.
By way of preamble, it said, "Cheer up, first years! You know what they say..."
And then the Hat broke into song.
"Some things in life are scary
But it's quite unnecessary
To worry yourself about the way I Sort
Every House where you might go
Is a worthwhile one, you know
In any House, you'll learn and you'll be taught...
To...
"Always think of the best side of your House!
Always show off the best side of your House!"
Harry had never heard an item of clothing whistle a chorus before.
"If the Slytherins seem rotten
Then there's something you've forgotten
And that's their style and wit and ambition.
If you're not keen on Gryffindor
- Their arrogance becomes a bore -
Think of their brave and noble hearts, and grin...
And...
"Always think of the best side of your House!
Always show off the best side of your House!
"Ravenclaws might be absurd
And always seek the final word
But their minds are quick and canny every day;
Almost every Hufflepuff
Is a duffer, sure enough!
But they're honest and loyal anyway...
So...
"Always think of the best side of your House!
Always show off the best side of your House!
"Houses have little clout
When you think about
What matters most of all in life, it's true.
What does matter, let's be clear
Is that you make friends while you're here
And remember that your House reflects on you...
Sing it with me!"
The whole Gryffindor table, most of whom had already been clapping their hands to the beat, roared:
"Always think of the best side of your House!
Always show off the best side of your House!"
Many of the other students, as well as Dumbledore, came in on the next chorus.
"Always think of the best side of your House!
Always show off the best side of your House!"
"Come on first years, join in!" the Hat added.
"Always think of the best side of your House!
Always show off the best side of your House!"
"What have you got to lose?" the Hat called, cheerily.
"Always think of the best side of your House!
Always show off the best side of your House!"
The singing faded as the Hat whistled a long solo. The refrain crescendoed and then died away to scattered applause, and the Hall rang with a sudden silence. Then Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, lips pursed tightly as if to prevent something escaping.
"When I call your name from the list," the professor announced into the hush, "you will place the Hat on your head and sit upon the stool to be sorted."
She unrolled a parchment scroll. "Abbott, Hannah!"
The crowd of first years parted to let a chubby blonde girl through. She had barely sat down when the outsized hat that had fallen over her head shouted, "Hufflepuff!"
There was applause, loudest at the furthest table with the yellow banner, and the girl went to join them.
"Bones, Susan!"
Harry recognised the name "Bones" from his book of genealogy. The girl in question was sorted into Hufflepuff, and then -
"Boot, Terry!"
Terry moved forward from the front, looking pale and sickly. The Hat descended on his head and he sat in tense silence for ten seconds before it exclaimed, "Ravenclaw!"
Terry hurried off to find a seat at the Ravenclaw table. Harry did his best to memorise names and faces as the Sorting continued, but there were a lot of them.
"Brocklehurst, Mandy!" … "Ravenclaw!"
"Brown, Lavender!" … "Gryffindor!"
"Bulstrode, Millicent!" … "Slytherin!"
"Corner, Michael!" ... "Ravenclaw!"
"Cornfoot, Stephen!" … "Ravenclaw!"
"Crabbe, Vincent!" Harry recognised one of the boys who had stood with Draco Malfoy on the train.
The Hat mumbled to itself for a while, and then shouted, "Slytherin!"
"Davis, Tracey!" The girl hurried forward. There was so much trepidation in her face just confronted by a hat that Harry wondered how she'd have handled it if they actually had to fight for a place in the houses, as her cousin had said.
"Slytherin!"
"Entwhistle, Kevin!" … "Ravenclaw!"
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" … "Hufflepuff!"
"Finnigan, Seamus!" This was the boy who had brought up the 'troll conjecture' while they were waiting.
It took quite a while, but then, "Gryffindor!"
"Goldstein, Anthony!" … "Ravenclaw!"
"Goyle, Gregory!" And there was the other large boy from the train. "Slytherin!"
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione marched to the Hat with fists balled, and jammed it down on her head as she sat. It dropped down over her eyes and stayed there for quite some time. Harry wondered what was going on in there, exactly. Was the Hat having trouble deciding? Was she somehow arguing with it? Was she trying to impress it by thinking courageous thoughts, as she had mooted on the train, or was she taking another approach?
Perhaps a minute later, the Hat seemed to nod slightly, and announced to the Hall, "Ravenclaw!"
A flicker of an upset look passed over McGonagall's face before she called, "Greengrass, Daphne!"
Harry turned a little and saw Professor Flitwick beaming from the head table, and then the Hat called, "Slytherin!"
"Hopkins, Wayne!"
The earnest, stocky boy from Harry's boat was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff, soon followed by "Jones, Megan!"
"Li, Su" took a long time to be announced a Ravenclaw, and then Professor McGonagall called, "Longbottom, Neville!"
He stumbled and almost tripped on the way to the Hat, but let it drop down over his head. In relatively short order, it called, "Hufflepuff!"
The boy nodded to himself and put the Hat down very carefully before going off with shaky legs to join the applauding Hufflepuff table.
"MacDougal, Morag" became a Ravenclaw, and then "Macmillan, Ernie" was called. Harry watched the boy twist and fidget on the stool before he was announced a Gryffindor. Predictable enough, if his fervent support of Dumbledore was anything to go by.
"Malfoy, Draco" was grinning as he sat down wearing the Hat, and became a Slytherin almost immediately. The applause from his new house was the loudest yet, and his grin became even wider.
"Moon, Lilith" – the girl from Harry's boat – became a Hufflepuff, and then Theodore Nott was called forward.
The small, mousy-haired boy looked grim as the Hat slipped down over his head. A few seconds later, it called, "Slytherin!"
The next girl, "Parkinson, Pansy", joined him at the table soon after. Harry was growing a little nervous. Only about a quarter of the first years were left to be sorted, and "Potter, Harry" would presumably come relatively soon.
"Patil, Padma" was called, and Padma walked forward, face serene. She sat down demurely on the stool before lifting the Hat onto her head. A little later, it shouted "Slytherin!" and Harry heard her sister draw breath sharply from somewhere along the line. The new Slytherin smiled faintly on her way to the green-and-silver table.
Then, "Patil, Parvati!"
The matching figure became a "Gryffindor!" and the hall buzzed with brief conversations. Presumably it was unusual to see twins split up.
"Perks, Sally-Anne!" The Hat barely had time to touch her head before it called, "Hufflepuff!"
The applause was short-lived, giving way to another buzz of conversation when Professor McGonagall called, "Potter, Harry!"
He walked forward, eyes fixed on the Hat. His peripheral vision noted that a few students at the house tables seemed to be standing up to get a better look at him.
The Hat was even more dirty and ragged from up close. He picked it up, sat down on the stool in its place, and let it slide down over his eyes. It was dark within, and smelled of old sweat.
"Good evening," he said politely, or tried to say. Something was preventing him speaking aloud while under the Hat, but it seemed to hear him anyway.
"Yes, good evening to you. Another Potter, eh?" The rustling voice seemed to speak directly into his head.
"Yes. I am Harry James Potter. How may I call you, please?"
"Ha. What does a hat need with a name? Many have thought it a fine private joke to call me 'Millie' or 'Tam' or 'Rick', but in truth I have nothing more than a label."
"But you are sentient, are you not? If you will excuse me asking," Harry added quickly.
"Indeed I am, but you will find that the sets 'things with names' and 'things which think' are not equivalent, Mr Harry Potter. Oh, the Potters, I remember them all so well. Such a strange mind you have... but since there's no shortage of courage there, then if you've no objections, we'll put you in Gryffindor. How about it?"
"There must be more to the process than that." Harry thought rapidly; he didn't particularly want to be in Gryffindor.
"There is, and that's why I asked," it responded, then chuckled. "I can feel what you're preparing yourself to do, by the way, and just so you know, reaching up to hold my brim closed wouldn't stop me sorting you. Incidentally, everyone who's ever tried that, I've put into Gryffindor."
Harry relaxed slightly, but it was unnerving to have the Hat pick up on what was only a passing thought. "You make it sound like a certainty. How do you actually arrive at a decision?"
"Oh, not a certainty, not at all. And 'decision' is often something of an overstatement. Almost everyone who asks about the actual sorting process ends up in Ravenclaw, by the way."
The Hat seemed to snuggle down around his temples a little. "You're wise to have reservations. Yes, you're right, it is a choice which will mould your school years, and your life beyond them. No, it's not creepy. Oh, very well, if it makes you feel better, I won't respond to any thoughts except the ones you vocalise."
"It is creepy," Harry thought-spoke insistently. "Can you see everything in my mind?"
"No... there are many dark shields – strange shields – I cannot reach through. If I could, I would have sorted you already. But I can still tell that your mind is something else. Such potential..."
Harry wondered if he was imagining the tickling sensation as the Hat stayed silent for a few seconds.
"I see," it said eventually. "One of the most inquisitive minds I've ever seen... a general sharpness of wit... you know several languages, you've thought about the learning process itself... yes... Ravenclaw to a turn, I would say. But then again, there is canniness, a subtle nature, and oh my how you've embraced the mighty expectations your adopted people have of you, turning it into ambition. Yes... I would put you in Slytherin without a second thought if you wish it. Hear me out first, though."
There was the sensation again. "You've already worked harder than most who pass under me, and not just for yourself but other people. Making friends already, I see... open-minded about all persons, regardless of shape... not terribly trusting, but you have faith in people who have earned it, and respect for people who deserve it... you would make quite a splendid Hufflepuff. I believe you could forge that house into something spectacular. Yes indeed. I would say Ravenclaw for your mind or Hufflepuff for your hands, young Potter, but I might be swayed to any of the houses."
Harry was vaguely aware that the hall outside had filled up with whispering. "Ignore them," the hat said. "I will not Sort falsely or too fast. Contrary to the 'little clout' and other reassurances of my song earlier, this will be a life-changing decision for you. Your thoughts so far? You have a concern about Slytherin, I see."
"Yes. I'd heard-"
"That the Slytherins might have a problem with you, given the past proclivities and pastimes of many graduates from that House. Well, it cuts both ways, of course, and many would wish to associate themselves with you, but I won't lie... you would face more obstacles in Slytherin. You are used to the idea of standing on your own merits, and due to your history, nowhere would that be more important than in the house of snakes."
"Would it interfere with my education?"
The Hat paused for a long time. "This is not something I have said often to a student, but I suspect that for one such as you, most of the education you will get at Hogwarts will come from your own study and ...exploration."
It laughed – a curious, clothy sort of sound. "I am only a Hat, with no more foresight than I have eyesight. But I feel, deep in my stitching, that if it is your wish to become learned, you should go to Slytherin, where you may discover secrets in avenues once thought lost... But if you want to realise your ambitions, the tomes and debates and challenges of Ravenclaw may help you more. Quite a paradox. You have an almost visceral need to be surrounded by other fine minds, Mr Potter. Oh yes, in Ravenclaw your intelligence will take your places."
"And what would my intelligence do in Slytherin?"
The hat was quiet for a long time, before saying quietly, "It might make you feared. I am only a Hat, I cannot say. In Hufflepuff, you ask? In Hufflepuff..." it trailed off.
"Yes?"
"I will not lie. It might be stifled. In Hufflepuff you would learn to bring the lowest up, not push the highest further."
"I will not accept that."
"I did not think so." The Hat was silent again for a time, as the muffled noise from the Hall beyond grew and grew. "I will add that both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are less polarising. There are... political and social issues with the other two Houses that there simply have not been at other times in history."
Harry thought about his options, trying to ignore the fact that the Hat above him was reading every single thought that flashed through his head.
"Hufflepuff?" it asked hopefully, after a minute, but he shook his head. He hated feeling rushed about decisions, even small ones. But still...
The Hat picked up on what he was thinking, and agreed with another strange laugh. "All this rather in-depth debate goes to show that there really is only one reasonable place for you, you realise."
Harry sighed, thinking about hostility in Slytherin or having to pander to the lowest common denominator in Hufflepuff, and he remembered Filius and Ravenclaw's private library, and got as far as "I suppose-" before the Hat was booming:
"Ravenclaw!"
Harry realised he was Sorted, and lifted the Hat from his head. He heard a squeaking noise from behind him, and turned, just in time to see Professor Flitwick disappear backwards off his stool at the table.
The loud thump was lost in the growing cheers and applause. Harry set the Hat down and marched towards the Ravenclaw table, half of whom seemed to be clapping and the other half gossiping excitedly.
In the audience, Fred Weasley glanced across at his twin. "Ravenclaw? Almost as bad as Slytherin, that."
"Definitely Dark Lord material," George nodded.
Harry heard "Rivers, Robert" and "Roper, Artemis" both get Sorted into Hufflepuff (the latter bobbing a curtsy to the Hat afterwards). He found a spot on the bench between Terry and an older boy, who shook Harry's hand after he sat down.
"Glad to have you, Mr Potter. What a Sorting, you had everyone on the edge of their seats. Most people were betting 'Gryffindor' at first, but they started saying 'Slytherin' once you stayed under there so long. I'm Peregrine, but you can call me Pip – I'm a prefect, so you can ask me anything you want."
Harry heard Jan Runcorn called to the Hat, and turned away from the chubby, bespectacled older boy, who was beaming at him earnestly.
"Thanks ...Pip... but I want to watch this. I'm sure she'll be in-"
The Hat had barely touched her head before it shouted, "Gryffindor!" at the same time as Harry said the word. He smiled and shook his head as the girl whooped aloud and joined her table.
"Good eye," Pip said. Harry kept watching the Sorting, trying to ignore the fact that much of the table had elected to watch him instead.
"Smith, Zacharias!" ... "Hufflepuff!"
"Spinks, Ivy!" ... "Hufflepuff!"
"Thomas, Dean!" … "Gryffindor!"
"Turpin, Lisa!" … "Ravenclaw!"
The girl walked past them to find a free spot, and Harry scrutinised his new housemate. Then he tried to remember who else had been Sorted here, apart from Hermione. There had been quite a few of them...
"Weasley, Ron!" The boy who liked Quidditch sprouted a smile of relief when he was sorted into Gryffindor, sitting down next to another redhead. Harry guessed they might both be related to Bill Weasley, from Gringotts.
Then, "Zabini, Blaise!" was called, and Blaise ambled forward from where he had been standing by himself. There was just a trace of strain on his face before he disappeared under the Hat, but a few seconds later the shout of "Slytherin!" came, and he emerged again with his customary look of mild amusement.
As the hall slowly came to order, Harry wondered and worried a little about the Sorting. Was his placement the best it could be? Were others where they should be? Everything was telling him that a choice of House could be very important, but what little variables or experiences might have shifted a person from one House to another? Terry and Padma hadn't been Sorted immediately upon the Hat touching their heads. What tiny threads of consequence or upbringing or even discussions he had held this evening might have kept them out of – say – Hufflepuff?
Of course, what was hewn, was hewn. Harry grew distracted by the plate in front of him, tapping it with a fingernail and listening carefully. The resonance sounded nothing like gold, probably not even gold plated but simply an illusion or enchantment.
Then a flicker of movement at the head table caught his attention.
Professor Dumbledore stood slowly, smoothing out creases in his bright pink robes. The embroidered eyes on them stared in every direction and occasionally blinked. Harry paid close attention to how the powerful wizard comported himself.
Dumbledore beamed around the hall, and spoke.
"First years, welcome to Hogwarts! Everyone else, welcome back! I know we are all keen to give our banquet the attention it richly deserves, but I do have a few preliminary words to say. I hope they will whet your appetite and set the tone for what should prove to be a most bodacious school year. So without further ado, I say unto you: Essomenic! Scurrilous! Gardeviance! Partake!"
On the last word, food appeared, but that was an understatement. Harry blinked at it all.
Next to him, Terry stared and moaned, murmuring to himself. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Piles of pies. Stacks of steak. Platters of potatoes. Mountains of mincemeat." He seemed to run out of steam, continuing more slowly. "Tanks of tomatoes. Trays of tripe. Um, buckets of beef. Vats, I suppose, of vegetables. Tureens of turtle soup. Bowls of ...baloney?"
Pip leaned across Harry to rap the other boy on the head with a spoon. "Food goes in mouth, little wordsmith. You can alliterate about it later." He drew a large pot towards himself. "This isn't turtle soup, anyway. It's some sort of fish thing."
The platters were stacked so closely together that barely an inch of the table was visible. The salt and pepper pots threaded their way through it all on spindly legs, in hot pursuit of the butter dish, which was clattering from the shelter of one gleaming dish to another.
Harry cautiously picked up the nearest steaming platter. Some sort of stew with meat, topped with mashed tubers. Probably potatoes?
"It appears that Blaise was right about Headmaster Dumbledore, yes?" he observed.
The prefect Pip glanced curiously at him. "Let me guess. You heard that Dumbledore's a loony, and his little speech just confirmed it?"
Harry glanced up and down the table, trying to work out if he was meant to eat the thick stew with fork or spoon. "It certainly seems like it."
"He always does something particularly strange at the Welcome Feast," Pip said. "I mean, he acts a bit mad the rest of the year, too, but it's always worst on the first evening. Maybe it builds up during the holidays, or something."
Harry nodded, deciding on the spoon and hesitantly trying the stew. The lumps of meat had been cooked so much that they were brown right through. It didn't really taste bad, just rather strange. If Bogripple hadn't warned him, he might have spat it out in surprise.
He tried a few more things. There was far more meat than he'd had at any meal, even feasts. All the vegetables were cooked, which threw him a little, and the only fish dish was the soup which Pip had commented on. There didn't seem to be any fungi at all.
He grabbed some brown slices. "What is this?"
Terry looked at his plate, then gave him a weird look. "Just beef."
He chewed it thoughtfully. Cuisine was one area where his English didn't get much practise. "Beef... that's from a horse or cow or something, yes?"
Pip spat out a mouthful, and turned to look at him. The girl on the opposite side of the table, who had long braided hair, wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Horse?"
"...Not horse, then?"
There were more stares, from all around. "Not horse," Terry agreed weakly. "You've never eaten beef?"
"I don't know. Maybe? I've had surface food, but not a lot of meat."
"Oh!" Pip's broad face suddenly seemed to light up. "You live with goblins, that's right! God, do they eat horses?"
"Mainly vegetables... nutritious fungi... small cave animals, fish." Harry shrugged. "Meat is usually hard to come by. It's to do with ...energy loops, I think you would say in English. A horse is the large mammal with hooves, yes? Like a cow or donkey but large, with the vaguely dragon-y head? Are they not good to eat?"
The looks on their faces told him that no, horses were not good to eat.
Author's notes:
→ The Life Of Brian is the property of Monty Python; Harry Potter is the property of J K Rowling. Do not get them confused.
→ Yes, I write references. If you were surprised by the sudden crop of Monty Python gags, it is likely because you didn't pick up the more obscure Discworld MUD gags before that, the MSPA gags before that, and the LOTR and Doctor Who and Digger and who knows what else gags before that...
→ Various people have commented on, or expressed their distaste for, the OCs. If you will excuse the pedantry, note that every single first year student, including Runcorn, Moon and Hopkins, is either in the books or in JKR's notes for the books; although for many we have nothing but a name, this may not make them OCs as such. Peregrine, on the other hand, is made up from whole cloth. If you are annoyed by true OCs like this, then you may wish to stop reading completely, because a tiny fraction of the students are mentioned in the books and there is no sane reason why Harry would happen to encounter only that fraction. That said, there is necessarily a balance between old familiar faces and new names attached to unknown entities. Those who tried to keep track of about a billion different goblins should have no problem.
→ Finally, Ravenclaw House! Congratulations to those who spotted it. It was probably fairly obvious, with Hufflepuff being the closest alternative and Slytherin a little less likely.
→ The next chapter is all but written. Those are famous last words, so bear with me if it doesn't actually appear for a week or so after this one. As always, thanks for reading and please leave a review!