Hi guys,

Thanks for all your support, the reviews really helped. Sorry this took so long, life has been nasty lately... moving 7,000 km away from home didn't help either. Today I was looking at your reviews and decided that you deserved this story and I could not procrastinate any longer... I promise it won't happen again. Once again, I implore you to poke me. This story would not happen without you guys. As the lovely Ms. Rowling said, No story exists unless someone wants to listen...

Italics are Hermione's thoughts.

The boats ground into an underground harbour of rocks and pebbles, and Hogwarts's latest batch of students climbed out of them. They walked up a passageway in the rock, emerging in the castle grounds. The first years trooped up to the great oaken doors, upon which Hagrid knocked thrice.

The doors swung open immediately, framing a tall witch in emerald robes. It was Professor McGonagall. She led them through a gigantic entrance hall and up a flight of marble stairs to an empty room, where she gave them a brief speech about the Houses of Hogwarts. "I shall return when we are ready for you," she said. "Please wait quietly."

She left the room, and the students immediately turned to one another, chattering about the Sorting. Hermione went through all the spells that she'd learned over the holidays and wondered which one she might need, if she indeed needed one.

Then something rather startling happened – many ghosts appeared through one of the walls, and started speaking to the surprised children. Hermione had read about the ghosts, but didn't expect them to be so friendly. Then Professor McGonagall returned and the ghosts drifted away. "Now, form a line and follow me." The Professor instructed them.

When they walked into the Great Hall, Hermione could not help but start whispering about all the things she had read about it. There were four tables, where the students of the four houses were seated, laid with glittering golden dishes. The hall was lit by countless floating candles, below a velvety ceiling dotted with stars. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." She said excitedly. She couldn't believe it, she was actually at Hogwarts!

Hermione look up at the row of teachers. There was a wise looking old man with a long white beard who must be Professor Dumbledore. She noticed a few of the other teacher, all of whom she had read about. Professor Flitwick – a diminutive man who taught charms, Professor Sprout – a squat witch in practical clothing, and Professor Snape – a sour man with oily hair and a large hooked nose.

Hermione wondered what would happen at the Sorting. She hadn't been able to find any information on it in any of her books. She suddenly noticed that Professor McGonagall had brought out a ratty old hat that was placed on a stool. She watched the hat attentively, and her eyes widened as she noticed a tear in the fabric widening, before the hat broke into song. It sang about the different houses, and that it would be the one Sorting them. She inferred from what it had said that it could somehow read her mind and tell her which of the Houses she belonged in.

After the Hat had finished singing, Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll and proceeded to read their names off it. Hermione became, impossibly, even more nervous. She found herself unable to focus on the Sorting, until she heard her name called. "Granger, Hermione". She flinched at the sound, then forced her feet forwards to the stool.

She sat down. Professor McGonagall looked at her with a hint of something like sympathy in her eyes, before she lowered the Hat onto Hermione's head. It slid down over her eyes, cutting off the world around her.

'Well, what have we here?' A voice said. Hermione froze. Was the hat talking to her? 'Yes, indeed I am able to communicate with you, but please don't ask any questions. We need to get you Sorted, there are plenty of other people waiting their turn, you know.' She waited, albeit slightly impatiently. 'Let me take a look… I see… a love of learning and a keen mind… not to mention you are a voracious reader, my dear… you would find a home in Ravenclaw with others like yourself, I am sure… and such ambition in one so young, such a wish to prove yourself, and I am sure you could be a cunning Slytherin, yes… hardworking and honest, and loyal, loyalty you have in spades, if given the chance to have true friends…perhaps a Hufflepuff then?... and what's this, buried deep here… ah, bravery and courage, worthy of Godric…' You mean to say, you don't know where to put me? Hermione puzzled. You said you'd know… 'Well, I must admit, you are rather hard to place… but not Slytherin, I think. They would not accept one such as yourself there…' What do you mean? Hermione asked, but the Hat had already moved on. 'In Hufflepuff you'd find a home, of that I have no doubt, but help you to grow and change… I think not…' I think Gryffindor does sound by far like the best house, in all the books I've read, Hermione started. 'Yes, yes, but you should not be so quick to take for granted all that you have read, child…' What do you mean? She cried, but the Hat ignored her. 'Ravenclaw or Gryffindor… there is no doubt that you belong in Ravenclaw, but in Gryffindor that little spark of bravery may grow…' I think I'd like to be in Gryffindor, if you please, Sir… 'But you are a Ravenclaw to the core, Miss Granger, and you would do well there…" You said so yourself, just then, that I'd grow in Gryffindor. 'Ravenclaw or Gryffindor… Hmmm…' The Hat was silent for a very long time. Hermione could hear the people in the Hall getting restless. What's taking so long? 'Well, child, it is doubtless that you have an amazing life ahead of you… that you may do many great things and have a hand in what is to come… but this decision could lead you down many different paths… In Ravenclaw you will find a true home… But in Gryffindor you may be pushed to develop that spark of courage… and you may find true friends there… but the journey will be hard, there's no doubt about that… Where to put you?' I'd rather like to be in Gryffindor, I mean, the Headmaster himself was in Gryffindor, and so is Professor McGonagall, and it does sound like a great house… 'Well, if you do think so, I'll say to you…'

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Thanks!"

'Good luck, child…'