When the door opened, Harry noticed a tall, black-haired witch wearing emerald-green robes. Her face wasn't mean, but it was still very stern, and Harry had the feeling that this witch was not someone you wanted to piss off.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said back. "I will take them from here."
All of the first years clambered inside. Harry was glad to get out of the cold; he got a pleasant sort of tingling feeling in his stomach when he felt Hermione's hand slip into his. It was the same way her hugs felt—strange and new, maybe a little bit scary, but like that was where he belonged.
The entrance hall alone was so big, two versions of Sirius and Harry's current flat could have fit inside it, and probably four of Sirius's old studio. There was a high ceiling and the stone walls were lit with torches, which reminded Harry of Gringotts. Facing them was a staircase made of marble, which obviously led to the upper floors of the castle.
Professor McGonagall herded Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the first years across the stone floor and into a small, empty chamber off the hall. Every first year there looked as nervous as Harry felt.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said 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, 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."
Harry remembered what Sirius had told him about Slytherin and the witches and wizards who got Sorted into that house. Doubtful, he thought.
"While you are at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall continued, "your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose 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.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," she said finally. "Please wait quietly."
And she left.
"How do we get Sorted?" Hermione asked nervously, squeezing Harry's hand a little tighter.
"Some sort of test, I think," said Ron, his face pale. "My brother Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
"It doesn't hurt, Hermione," Harry told her, trying to sound comforting. "Don't worry. Sirius told me how it works. All you do is put a hat on your head—you know, a magic hat—and it tells you where to go. Sirius said the hat has made some 'questionable decisions' in the past, but that overall its judgment is pretty good."
"What?" Ron scowled. "I'll kill Fred, he said we had to wrestle a troll."
Harry laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. "I don't think we're ever going to have to do that!"
"You're lucky you have Sirius, Harry," said Hermione, who still would not let go of Harry's hand.
"I know, I know," Harry agreed. "I would be lost without Sirius."
Then something startling happened; Harry jumped about a foot in the air and then there were some screams from behind him.
About twenty ghosts had come through the wall, not looking at the first years, apparently arguing over something. One of the ghosts, who looked like a fat little monk, was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"
"My dear Friar," said another ghost, this one wearing a ruff and tights, "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?"
None of the students answered him.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar smilingly. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
Several people nodded, but still nobody spoke.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the Fat Friar continued. "My old house, you know."
"Move along now," said a now-familiar strict voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall was back. The ghosts left, then, drifting away through the wall, the same way they had come inside.
"Now, form a line, and follow me," she instructed everyone.
Hermione finally let go of Harry's hand and moved in front of him; Ron got behind him. They walked out of the chamber, across the hall, and through a pair of double doors, which led into the Great Hall, and the Great Hall was amazing.
Thousands and thousands of candles floated in midair over four long tables, where the second through seventh years were already seated. Some looked interested, others looked hungry. Each table was set with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was the High Table, where the teachers were sitting, but Harry couldn't see the teachers clearly from where he was standing. Harry looked up and saw that the ceiling was black and sprinkled with stars.
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Hermione whispered to him. "I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
Harry was waiting to see the Sorting Hat that his godfather had told him about. Finally, Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of them, and on top of that she placed a ragged, patched wizard's hat. It was so filthy, Harry was sure Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the Dursleys' house.
For a moment, there was silence. Then the hat twitched, a rip near the brim opened like a mouth, and it started to 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 folk 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!
Everyone clapped after the Sorting Hat finished its song. It bowed to each table and then became still again. Harry was glad he just had to try on the hat, but he was becoming more nervous by the minute. What if he got Sorted into Slytherin? He was wearing the Gryffindor socks Sirius had bought for him, but would they be enough?
Professor McGonagall stepped forward. In her hands was a long roll of parchment paper.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
Hannah Abbot, a pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails, became a Hufflepuff. After that came Susan Bones, who joined Hannah Abbott at the Hufflepuff table, and Terry Boot, who became a Ravenclaw, and then Mandy Brocklehurst became a Ravenclaw too. The first Gryffindor was a girl named Lavender Brown. Since Gryffindors tended to be very loud people, they cheered the loudest when Lavender became one of their own. Fred and George were cat-calling.
The first Slytherin was Millicent Bulstrode, a huge, mean-looking girl who kind of looked like a female version of Crabbe or Goyle (and that was no compliment). Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, which was on the far right, as Millicent stomped to her seat. He wondered if it was his imagination, after all Sirius (not to mention Ron) had told him, but they didn't look very nice.
More and more first years got Sorted. Harry's heart leapt into his throat when they reached the G's. What if he and Hermione got Sorted into different Houses? He didn't think he could bear it. She was smart, so they might put her in Ravenclaw. But then, she was kind and loyal and hardworking too, so they might put her in Hufflepuff! She probably wouldn't get into Slytherin, because there had probably never been a Muggle-born in Slytherin. But there was only a one-in-three chance that she and Harry would get the same House, assuming Harry got Gryffindor too. Please, please, please…
"Wish me luck, Harry," Hermione whispered, squeezing Harry's hand one more time, and she ran up to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
"Good luck," Harry said hoarsely.
"Are you sure you're not dating?" Ron hissed.
"No, we aren't!" Harry insisted.
For some people, the Sorting Hat shouted out the House right away, but for others, it took quite a long time to decide. Hermione was one of the latter group. It seemed that the Sorting Hat was having a difficult time with her, but after nearly four minutes, the hat declared her a Gryffindor. Harry relaxed just a little as Hermione waved brightly to him on her way to the Gryffindor table.
The relaxation didn't last for long, though. As Harry watched Neville Longbottom get Sorted (his Sorting took some time too, just like Hermione's), he wondered if maybe he would just sit and sit on the stool for ages until finally Professor McGonagall yanked it off his head and told him to go home. Hopefully not…I mean, you have done magic, he reminded himself. Neville became a Gryffindor, too.
When Malfoy's name was called, he showed no signs of nervousness like the rest. The hat didn't hesitate at all with him, either. It had barely touched his head when it declared him a Slytherin. Smirking with pride, he went to join Crabbe and Goyle at the table on the far right.
There weren't many people left now. They finished with the M's, got past the N's, and finally…Harry got more and more nervous as Professor McGonagall called out names. Why did there have to be so many people with last names starting with P? Or why couldn't his father's last name have started with an A? Why couldn't this just be over? Why—
"Potter, Harry!"
Harry heard the familiar whispering as he stepped forward. As he placed the Sorting Hat on his head and it fell down over his eyes, everyone was staring at him.
"Hmm," said the hat's 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?"
Not Slytherin, Harry thought, gripping the edges of the stool. Not Slytherin…
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the hat. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt…"
My godfather Sirius said Slytherin is a House for Dark wizards, Harry thought. I'm not a Dark wizard.
"I remember Sorting him," said the small voice wisely. "He had his own reasons for hating Slytherin. There were some memories in his head that weren't so nice."
Please don't put me in Slytherin, Harry insisted.
"Well, if you're sure," finished the hat. "Better be…GRYFFINDOR!"
The last word, "Gryffindor", was shouted out to the whole hall. Harry felt relief overcome him. It was over, and he was in the same house as Hermione, his best friend at Hogwarts. He was getting the loudest cheer of all. Percy Weasley gave him a hearty handshake; Fred and George yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry grinned at them as he sat down next to Hermione. She beamed at him and whispered, "Congratulations!"
"I guess it was my Gryffindor socks," Harry said jokingly, and she laughed.
By the time Harry turned his attention to the Sorting again, a girl named Lisa Turpin had just been Sorted into Ravenclaw and now it was Ron's turn. He was pale green as he walked up to the hat and put it on his head. Harry crossed his fingers under the table (he thought Ron was going to make a good friend, too). Only a second later, the Sorting Hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"
Ron sat down on Harry's other side. Percy congratulated him on making Gryffindor. Blaise Zabini became a Slytherin, and then Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat away. Harry was looking down at his empty plate, thinking about how hungry he was, and then Dumbledore stood up.
"Welcome!" he said, looking pleased. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
As he sat back down, everybody clapped and cheered again. Since Dumbledore had tried to modify Harry's memory the first time they had met, Harry wasn't used to the headmaster being so benign. But he hoped they could just eat now.
"I'm hungry," Harry commented.
"Look down!" Hermione replied, her voice hushed.
Harry gasped. The dishes in front of him were heaped with food—and they even had those miniature ears of corn-on-the-cob Sirius had been telling him about! There were even peppermint humbugs. So it seemed Sirius had been telling the truth. Harry would definitely not go hungry at Hogwarts. He piled his plate with a bit of everything (except the peppermints) and started to eat.
They talked to Nearly Headless Nick, who was the ghost in the ruff and tights—someone had tried to behead him, but not done it right. After the feast was over, the desserts appeared, and the talk turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half," said a sandy-haired boy named Seamus Finnigan. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch until after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
"She couldn't," said Harry. "My godfather has a Muggle girlfriend, and he says he can't tell her he's a wizard unless they get married."
"It's some clause in the Statute of Secrecy," Ron agreed. "I've heard Dad talk about it. There are a few other exceptions, too, he said, but I can't remember what they are."
"Wait a minute, do you mean Sirius Black?" said Seamus.
"Don't worry, he was innocent," Harry said. "Someone else framed him."
"I know that, everyone's read the article by now…" Seamus gestured at the High Table. "But isn't that him up there?"