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Chapter 7: The Oft-Unmentioned Fifth House

After crossing a large lake in some wooden dinghies, the first year students were led up to the entrance hall by Hagrid, where they were made to wait. Shortly, a tall, stern witch with black hair in a kilt and emerald camisole appeared from a door across the hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the witch said in a thick Scottish accent. "I am Professor McGonagall. 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, heroes are in Gryffindor and villains, Slytherin, and while you are here, your house will be something like a clan. 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-"

Ron interjected suddenly, "Five."

"-Five houses are called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin ,and Dragongout. Each house-"

Hermione interrupted this time, "Didn't you say there were five houses?"

McGonagall smacked her forehead, "Stupid! I forgot Hufflepuff again! And Hufflepuff. 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. The proper abbreviation for this, as it appears now is HP. Notice anything significant? No? All right, then. 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. No pressure. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was inside-out, and on Ron, who was scratching his butt. Harry nervously tried to flatten his unruly hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the room. Harry swallowed. Almost immediately, everyone began to shout and stumble about in a panic.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but it may have been George who said it, come to think of it."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. He hoped that being related to his Aunt didn't make him more prone to heart attacks, as Dudley had already had nine. And besides, he was horrible at tests. Especially in gym. But he didn't know any magic yet – what on Earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around, and could tell everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was at all calm except for Hermione Granger, who was whispering the names of the five houses under her breath. He wondered which house he would be in. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

And she did just that.

"The Sorting Ceremony is about to start, everyone line up."

Harry found himself being lead through the double doors into the Great Hall. Harry had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables and one short, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laden with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up her, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candle-light. Dotted here and there among the students, pale, ghostly figures shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing – noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he gave into peer pressure, and stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat a hippogriff if you can find,

A bigger smarta** hat than me!

You can keep your tri-corns black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can p*** off them all!

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't peep on,

So try me on and I will tell you

Which colors you ought to don!

You might belong in red Gryffindor,

Where the overconfident heroes soar;

Or in Ravenclaw, if chosen right,

For those not strong, but considered bright;

Or perhaps in racist Slytherin,

Home to jerks who only let pureblood wizards in;

And if you're unlucky, Dragongout,

For the weird kids, who we leave out;

Or maybe oft-forgotten Hufflepuff,

Whose rhyme I devised at the last second,

Where go those dumb and not too tough.

So put me on! Be afraid!

And in fan fiction, don't make me rap!

Or you're in for a nasty surprise,

For I'll make your hair smell like crap!"

The whole hall burst out in laughter as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four large tables, ignoring the fifth, spat out a cough drop, and became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, or George, maybe both. One of them was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced, rather pudgy girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, smiled back at Dean, and put on the hat, which fell down right over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –

"Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went down to sit at the Hufflepuff table, which was by far the most crowded of the four.

"Bones, Susan!"

"Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"Ravenclaw!"

The second large table from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Bracegirdle, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin siblings catcalling

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. It didn't help that some older students had goatees.

"Finch-Fletchly, Justin!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

Seamus punched fists with Harry, and he walked up to the hat and donned it. After sitting there for nearly a minute, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

"Goodbody, Bolger!"

There was a loud honk noise, and then, "Dragongout!" and so it was that a character was never mentioned again.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and pulled it onto her head, making in come to rest at level with her throat.

"Gryffindor!" shouted the hat as Ron groaned.

"I wanted to be in Gryffindor. My whole family is, and now that little s –" Ron whispered furiously.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The hat took roughly five minutes to decide Neville's fate.

"Gryffindor!" it shouted, making the entire Gryffindor table groan.

As Neville walked away, the hat called, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Neville stumbled back, and the hat opened its mouth to let Trevor jump into Neville's hands. Neville walked back to Gryffindor table, embarrassed, but relieved.

"Macmillan, Ernie!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Malfoy, Draco!"

The moment it had touched his head, the hat shouted, "Slytherin!" After Malfoy had set it down, Harry thought he saw it shudder. Malfoy went to join his friends, looking pleased with himself. There weren't many people left now.

"Parkinson, Pansy!"

"Slytherin!"

"Patil, Padma!"

"Ravenclaw!"

One of the twins whistled.

"Patil, Pavarti!"

"Gryffindor!"

The other twin shouted across the hall, "Girls can enter the boy's dormitories!"

McGonagall glared at them, then continued.

Then there was "Perks, Sally-Anne" …, and then, at last –

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall half full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…. So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of of the stool and thought, Not Hufflepuff or Dragongout. I also don't like the idea of Slytherin. And I'm not some nerdy Ravenclaw.

"Not giving me much choice, are you?" said the small voice. "Are you sure you don't want to be Slytherin? – No? Well, if you're sure – better be Gryffindor!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not been put in Hufflepuff, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" and gave the Slytherin table the finger. Harry sat down opposite a ghost in a ruff. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him from the card he'd gotten with the Chocolate Toad on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple bath towel turban.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. (It says three in the book, but there are really four people after Harry. Check a copy.)

"Thomas, Dean!"

"Gryffindor!"

Dean joined Harry and Seamus at the Gryffindor table, high-fiving them simultaneously.

"Turpin, Lisa!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Harry crossed his fingers.

"Gryffindor!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy, accepting a few coins from another student he had evidently made a bet with.

"Zabini, Blaise!"

"Slytherin!"

Fred and George half stood up.

"You're prettier than all the Slytherins put together!"

"What say we get together after dinner?"

Blaise blinked in shock. McGonagall laughed behind the scroll.

"Don't get so excited you two, Blaise is a boy."

Fred and George blushed and sat down abruptly. They weren't the only ones in the hall with red faces, and no one said anything as Professor McGonagall took the stool away through a side door by the High Table. Harry looked down at his empty golden plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin crumpets seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words." A man with greasy black hair and a hooked nose stood up from the High Table, and ran around it in a hurry. "And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak –"

The man stopped his mouth with a napkin, put an arm around his shoulders, and led him back to his seat. Then he said "Thank you! All announcements will be made after the feast."

Everyone clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"He's a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad? He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! And yes, a bit mad. Potatoes?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, catsup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had starved him since early childhood, but letting Dudley stuff his face. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you -?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred –"

"Pass the salad?"

"No, as ghosts can neither taste nor move things," the ghost sniffed, "I don't believe I've introduced myself. I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy- Porpington Engawalde Et Ubiquitum Ad Eldazar von Sca."

"Sca?"

Ron added enlighteningly, "You're Nearly Breathing Nick! My brothers told me about you! You were that muggle bloke with the Society of Creative Anachronism who drowned in the lake three falls back!"

Nick sniffed again and floated off. After he left, Harry looked over at the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy was sitting with his friends. He could just barely hear them, as Malfoy was talking quite loudly with a bunch of other students.

"They shouldn't let any stinking m******** into this school. This is a place for wizards. My father said it, and I'm saying it now –"

Harry decided it was best just to ignore him.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, churros, chocolate éclairs, cheese cake, jam donuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, plasma tea, sugar snowflakes, exploding bonbons, rice pudding…

As Harry helped himself to a tortoise tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm Half-and-Half," said Seamus, pouring creamer into his crimson-colored tea, "My dad is too. Mom didn't tell him she preferred milk 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" asked Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up, and she likes hornswoggler milk in her tea," said Neville, "but the family thought I would stick to lemons for ages. Great Uncle Algie kept trying to slip some into my tea and get me to try it. He once even pushed me off Blackpool pier once, and I nearly drowned, all as an excuse to get me to drink tea. Didn't happen until I was eight though. Threatened me by hanging me out of a window by my ankle. Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidently let go. He slipped me some after we got back from the hospital. He was so pleased I drank it, he even bought me my toad."

Harry, who was beginning to feel warm and sleepy, to the point of ignoring Neville's extensive monologue, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet and blushing. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to the teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

Percy turned and looked that way too, "Great. Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape are talking. This won't end well."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Professor Snape despises small talk."

Professor Quirrell offered Snape a piece of cake, which was knocked out of his hands.

"He also despises cake. Actually, he despises nearly everything. He even ignores or twists the rules. Not surprising that he especially dislikes Quirrell. He's been after the Defense Against the Dark Arts post for years."

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Snape got to his feet. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few words now that you can hear me over your stomachs. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that, too," Snape glared at the Weasley twins, who smiled and waved, "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, will also punish anyone who uses magic between classes in the corridors," he gestured to a man with dirty, scraggly hair who was cradling a whip, some way off to his right, "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact the instructor, Professor A. West. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to those who do not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"And now, for the benefit of the first years, I shall introduce the various teachers. My name is Professor Snape, and I'm the Potions teacher. This is Professor McGonagall, the Sports coach and Transfiguration teacher. Here we have Professor Hagrid," he sneered on this one, "who, due to budget cuts, is our Herbology teacher, Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and Groundskeeper. This is Professor H.P. Lovecraft, our resident Divination and History of Magic teacher."

Several of the girls chattered amongst themselves.

"Quiet! This is Madam Pince, the Librarian. This is Professor Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Snape growled, "Here is Professor West, our Muggle Studies teacher, and Quidditch referee. And this is Madam Zabini, the School Nurse. Unfortunately, Professor Zoriander is busy with other duties, and will not be able to teach Arithmancy this year. I will be filling in for her."

This brought a lot of angry muttering, and Fred and George both made a rude gesture in his direction.

Snape sighed, "And lastly, please join everyone but me in a round of the school song."

He walked back to his seat as the rest of the teachers rose and made their way to the front. Harry noticed that the other teachers all wore very fixed, fake smiles, and he was about to hear why.

Next time on HPMF:

Hermione: Look! I transfigured it into a needle!

Harry: Fantastic! Can you transfigure me an outstanding?

Snape: I'll be expecting your homework on my desk on Tuesday.

Neville: Eek! *faint*

Snape: And clean up this mess.