Notes:
I apologize in advance for a quite boring chapter. It mostly repeats the canonical chapter "The Sorting Hat", only from Ron's POV and slightly altered scenes and replicas. I tried my best to avoid copy-pasting too much and replace with my own words as much as I could, but it hardly makes any difference.
But still, the chapter in itself is pretty important, and I couldn't just reduce it to describing in two paragraphs.
That's what it looks like in the end. Hope you'll enjoy it.
Chapter 4: Impressions
The train started slowing down until it finally stopped.
People hurried to push their way through the door and pour onto a tiny platform.
The chilling night air made me shiver. Then somebody came closer with a lamp swaying over the students' heads, and a voice called, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"
In the shy light of the lamp I could see a truly giant man, almost thrice as tall as eleven year olds he was towering over. Except for his small beetle-like eyes, almost all of his face was hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild beard.
"Hagrid!" Harry happily called out the newcomer, suddenly glad for a familiar face. So this is Hagrid. The twins and Charlie talked a lot about the keeper of the keys living in a hut by the border of the Forbidden Forest.
"C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
And we did follow him down a narrow path, stumbling and slipping, as it was hard to see anything we stepped on, let alone pitch black surroundings, I could only suspect were trees.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
What awaited us was an absolutely breathtaking sight, confirmed by unanimous gasps of awe. A huge black lake appeared, on the other side of which loomed a magnificent castle, adorned with numerous turrets and towers reaching high into the sky, its windows shimmering under the enchanting night sky.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, drawing our attention to several little boats sitting in the water by the shore.
Harry and I were one of the last to climb in a boat, coincidentally sharing it with Granger and Neville abroad, to my annoyance. Although she seemed to ignore our existence, we happily reciprocated the sentiment. For a moment, I wondered if Neville had finally found his toad, but I refrained from asking – in the boat, he appeared particularly nervous.
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a whole boat to himself, as he looked around. "Right then– FORWARD!"
With a resounding command, the fleet surged forward in unison, gliding across the glass-like surface of the lake, making its way towards the castle.
As the first boats neared the cliff on which stood Hogwarts, Hagrid yelled in warning "Heads down!" making all of them bend their heads while carried under a curtain of ivy. We were moving through a long tunnel, until we reached a sort of underground harbor.
As we clambered out on the steady ground with rocks and pebbles scattered around, Hagrid called out, "Hey! Anyone lost a toad?".
"Trevor!" Neville cried blissfully holding out his hands for the long lost pet. After an awkward reunion we followed Hagrid and his lamp once again, going up a passageway. In a few minutes we came out onto a green grass right in front of the castle. We ascended the steps and gathered around the entrance.
Hagrid lifted his free hand and loudly banged on the oak front door, which was promptly opened from the inside.
Behind the doorway stood a tall, dark haired witch in emerald robes. Properly intimidated by her steel gaze, I immediately recognized her as the famous McGonagall I had heard so much about. This was a holy woman who had been dealing with my brothers' shenanigans for years, I thought, staring at her with a mix of pity and respect.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," reported Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
She swung the door wide, revealing an expansive entrance hall that could easily accommodate the entire Burrow and more.
We followed her across the stone floor into a small chamber off the hall, passing by a wide staircase leading to the upper floors. The chamber, on the contrary, felt too crumpled, forcing all new students to stand closer together than they normally would.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began her speech about the importance of the Sorting ceremony and the four houses. As she went on, my mind involuntarily started to ponder on what house I'd end up in. I didn't tell anyone, except Harry a bit, but the question actually concerned me a lot lately.
I knew the rest of the family believed that I'd be in Gryffindor as everyone else, likely not even thinking that it might be otherwise. But I already defied all possible odds being born a diviner, it wasn't that far fetched that I'd be even more different. Frankly I didn't see myself as a Gryffindor at all – I wasn't brave or anything, I was more likely to run or trick, than rush into danger. Though I didn't think all Slytherins were the epitome of evil, I wasn't eager to become one of them, no matter how much I'd like to get out of my brothers' shadow.
While I was deep in thoughts, McGonagall was almost finished. "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 looked around all the children, pausing meaningfully on Neville and me.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber. I swallowed.
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" suddenly asked me Harry.
"No idea. No one would tell me, a tradition I guess. Maybe it's a test of some sort." Seeing Harry's panicked expression and Granger's rapid muttering of numerous spells, which was quite impressive, I added, "Psychological, I mean. Or magic." I shrugged, attempting to mask my own nerves even as my body trembled with anticipation.
Then a thought struck me, I didn't know… but I could find out. It's close enough that I might be able to divine it. I tried to look into the future where I stood still, waited for McGonagall and followed her inside, but some disturbance distracted me.
I turned sharply and a few seconds later, just as my vision had predicted, I witnessed around twenty pearly white and slightly trans parent figures floating through the back wall. People around me jumped and screamed in fright, while the ghosts glided across the chamber floor arguing, hardly noticing an audience.
What looked like a little fat monk said, "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?" The ghost finally noticed the living crowd. I blinked at the ghost and exchanged glances with Harry.
At least I tried to, but Harry remained frozen, his gaze fixed on the ghosts. His expression was peculiar, as if the features couldn't settle on a single emotion. It seemed to me like he was totally creeped out by their presence, but still reluctantly fascinated.
"New students!" the Fat Friar smiled at us. "About to be Sorted, I assume?"
Someone nodded.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff–"
"Move along now," McGonagall's sharp voice interrupted him. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin." The ghosts hurried to float away. "Now, form a line and follow me."
With a suddenly dry mouth I got into the line behind Harry who stood behind a boy with sandy hair, and we all walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of huge double doors into the Great Hall.
It closely resembled what I imagined from the snippets of information I got throughout the years, yet nothing could have fully prepared me for the breathtaking sight that unfolded before me. Thousands of candles illuminated the hall, floating over four long tables, where the rest of the students were seated. My eyes involuntarily slid over to the unmistakable tops of red hair at the leftmost table. The twins were beaming at me with thumbs up, while Percy just nodded. I forced myself to look back towards another long table at the top of the hall, where teachers were sitting. The first thing that caught my eye was Headmaster Dumbledore's silvery beard shone as brightly as the ghosts, which were dotted here and there among the students. Also Hagrid's giant figure was somehow already sitting at the left end of the High Table.
Professor McGonagall led us there, making us come to a halt. Granger whispered something about "Hogwarts. A History" but I didn't pay attention.
Then the Professor put an ordinary-looking four-legged stool in front of us, placing a frayed and extremely dirty hat on top of it. I was slightly taken aback when everyone in the hall fell silent and stared at it. It was– it was going to sing. I raised my eyebrows and got ready to listen.
The Hat actually had a decent voice, all things considered. Though when you are a semi-sapient millennium old hat, used only once a year, you'd be good at it too, I mused. However its words that there was nothing hidden in your head, that it wouldn't be able to see, made me uneasy.
Nonetheless, the song came to an end, making the audience erupt in applause. The hat bowed and sat still again.
I noticed how Harry's shoulders relaxed a bit. Yeah, trying on a hat seemed much easier than anything we thought of, and yet I didn't want anything, even a mere headpiece, near recesses of my mind.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in hand. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A small girl with pigtails stepped out of the line, put on a hat and sat down. "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat a moment later.
Hannah went to sit down at the table on the right cheering and clapping loudest.
"Bones, Susan."
I had a moment thought, what was the point in forming the line if she was calling by alphabet anyway, but dismissed it immediately as Susan joined Hannah at the Hufflepuff table.
After the novelty of the first students, it quickly became a long boring routine.
Figuring I'll be the last, I entertained myself by trying to see a student's house in advance. Unsurprisingly it went poorly. Only in the most obvious cases, when the hat barely needed to make any decision, I could predict, like with Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom, who ended up in Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively. For any others, the futures shifted too much to tell with any certainty.
"Harry Potter!"
It was the turn of my, dare I say, new friend. As he stepped forward, whispers broke out all around the hall, excited to catch a glimpse of their hero. Funny enough, I couldn't tell with him either, until he put the hat on and the futures shifted heavily to– Slytherin, my heart dropped. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, maybe I'll join him at the green table, I reminded myself.
However Harry kept sitting on the stool for a while and now looked around hundreds of curious eyes. For a split second our eyes met and he seemed to be panicking a little. I gave him a reassuring smile and a thumbs-up.
He didn't nod or anything, he just closed his eyes and– "GRYFFINDOR!"
I stood there gaping like a fish. What– he was–
The student body roared in applause and cheers, Gryffindor the loudest, naturally. I saw how the twins proclaimed "We got Potter! We got Potter!" for everyone to hear. I saw how Percy stood up for Harry and vigorously shook his hands. With a heavy sigh, I tore my eyes from the sight and turned back to the hat.
I couldn't help contemplating what happened. Did Harry change his mind because of me? It would be touching if I'd actually be in Gryffindor, but… Just why, Harry!? I clenched my fists in frustration.
"GRYFFINDOR!" Another life changing decision was made by the piece of ancient cloth, sending a tall black boy to the lion's den.
Taking deep breaths, I tried to calm down my stomach and get rid of a nauseating feeling, as "Turpin, Lisa" was sorted into Ravenclaw.
Finally, it was my turn. The instant the hat touched my head, I felt an unpleasant tingling sensation in my brain. It was so sudden, I jumped in fright and pushed the thing away from my mind with all my strength .
"Now, now, no need for that." the hat huffed. "I'm just going to sort you." I faintly heard snickers around.
I inhaled deeply and let the mental probe be, though it went against everything I was.
"Hmm, how interesting." I heard a soft voice in my ear. "Very interesting. And difficult. What a mind you possess, ah yes– and the talent– oh goodness. I see, the same thirst to prove yourself–"
I thought bitterly, stop speaking like that, like it's not clear already.
"Oh yes, Slytherin would be a great choice for you, but no, it's not clear. You certainly do not lack courage, no matter what you believe. Also your craving for knowledge, like no other– though it's in your nature, I believe."
My head spun, but I– then send me to Gryffindor, I thought as firmly as I could.
"Gryffindor? Are you sure? Hmm, yes, but Slytherin would serve you better– you'd be great, no doubt about that– no? Well, if you're so sure– GRYFFINDOR!"
The last word was shouted to the whole hall. I took off the hat and walked with jelly legs towards the red table. I was so relieved that I didn't even notice how I fell down next to Harry. My sorting, as expected, didn't cause the same level of celebration, except for tired cheers and Percy's pompous "Well done, Ron".
Fred couldn't resist commenting, "First Weasley hat stand, ah, Ron? What was that about?"
I didn't initially want to explain anything, but seeing Harry's poorly concealed curiosity I shrugged nonchalantly, "The Hat had considered placing me in Slytherin for a long time but changed its mind."
Percy didn't react outwardly much, only narrowed his eyes a bit. The twins raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances.
"Well, that's a shame. Could you imagine–"
"the sheer amount of pranks we could pull off–"
"with one of us on the inside in the snake pit?!"
"So many–"
"And much more," they grinned.
I smiled at their words. It was their way of saying "We'd support you no matter what." I felt incredibly touched at the moment.
Finally, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Hat away, following the sorting of the last student, "Zabini, Blaise" into Slytherin.
Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat next, his face beaming at the students, with his arms opened wide.
"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our grand feast, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
He said, "Thank you!" before sinking back into his seat amidst the cheers of everyone, clearly pleased with himself.
I knew, of course, that Dumbledore was a persona bizarre even by wizards' standards yet that still surprised me. Shrugging off, I focused on more important matters – the feast began.
Some people tended to look down on my family's lack of wealth, but no one in the Weasley household was ever denied a supremely delicious meal. The kitchen was always full of activity and rich foods. And yet, I'd never seen so much food in one place at once. The tables were almost straining with effort under the overall weight of all the dishes: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries and so on, and so forth.
I decided not to agonize over choices and just piled a bit of everything within reach onto my plate. Especially as Harry did exactly the same. It was all delicious. Nothing can compete with mom's cooking prowess, but this feast came very close.
A nearby ghost said, "That does look good," as he watched Harry cut up his steak, distracting me from my own plate.
"Erm–" Harry hesitated, unable to find the words. Still spooked by the specters, I see.
"Can't you eat? Well, at least taste?" I asked instead, as I figured ghosts still creeped him out too much.
"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," the ghost in the ruff replied. A shiver ran down my spine at the terrifying prospect. "I don't really have to, of course, oh but how I miss it. It seems I haven't properly introduced myself yet. I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower, at your service."
I gasped in realization, exclaiming "I know who you are! My brothers told me about you– you're Nearly Headless Nick!" I blurted out without thinking.
"Ah, I'd prefer if you addressed me as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy– " the ghost began stiffly, but Seamus Finnigan, the sandy-haired boy, interrupted.
"Hold on! Nearly Headless? How can someone be 'nearly headless'?"
Nick threw me an irritated glance, I responded with a sheepish smile. He certainly didn't harbor any love towards the nickname.
"Like this," he gripped his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell on his shoulders holding on by a small piece of ethereal flesh. Clearly satisfied by stunned looks and gasps of horror around him, he flipped his head back on its place.
"So– new faces in Gryffindor! I hope you're going to help us bring the house championship home this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning – unheard of, Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable—he's the Slytherin ghost."
All the nearby first years turned their attention towards the Slytherin table simultaneously. It was a both unsettling and pleasing sight: a horrifying ghost with a blank face and splatters of silver blood on his robes, floating near a visibly uncomfortable Malfoy.
Soon after, once everyone had finished eating their fill, the food disappeared from their plates, leaving them sparkly clean, as if all the food before was nothing more than a dream. Fortunately, the empty plates didn't stay that way for long. Within seconds, they were filled with an equally diverse array of desserts: ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and so on.
Without hesitation, I piled a generous slice of treacle tart onto my plate. As I started to actively consume my favorite dessert, I noticed the conversations around me subtly shifted to the topic of families.
"I'm half-and-half," shared Seamus. "My dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch, 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
I snorted incredulously and shook my head, mentally wincing. Judging by his mood, it ended up okay, but I wasn't touching this can of worms, thank you very much. So I quickly changed the subject.
"What about you, Neville?"
"Well, I was raised by my gran and she's a witch," Neville began, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for a long time. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned, but nothing happened until I was eight." I listened intently, my eyes wide.
"Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. I plunged into the ground – but left without a single scratch or a bruise on me. They were all overjoyed, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And the look on their faces when I got accepted here – you should've seen them. They thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad," he finished, his voice filled with pride. I gaped in astonishment.
I suddenly developed a newfound appreciation for my family. I had no idea what it would be like if they'd tried to 'force' magic out of me. If I had been in his place, I wouldn't have survived that fall, would I? Another shiver went down my spine.
Speaking of which, what was Neville thinking, shouting his first burst of accidental magic for everyone to hear?! It's a quite intimate moment for every wizard, not to mention that it pretty much reveals what kind of mage you're. From that story alone, I could deduce that Neville's magical affinity was either force or earth. My intuition was leaning towards the latter.
"I know what you mean, mate", I replied, understanding his experience, at least partly. "I didn't think I had any magic and was afraid I wouldn't get accepted either." I fidgeted under all the staring, including Harry's. "But it turned out I'd been using my magic for years, so– yeah."
"How could you not notice you were using magic?" asked Seamus, clearly confused.
"Erm– it just… wasn't visible," I said awkwardly, scratching my cheek.
Overall, Neville offered me a grateful smile and nodded in acknowledgement, however I couldn't help but think that his eyes had turned contemplative, almost assessing.
I dismissed the thought and quickly redirected my attention to other conversations around me. Granger was occupying Percy with questions about classes, Transfiguration and Charms in particular. Fred and George were busy with some animated discussion with two girls from their year and a heavily built guy, who looked older, fifth year or so.
Suddenly, Harry exclaimed, "Ouch!" and grabbed his forehead.
"Are you alright?" I asked, concern evident in my voice.
"N-nothing," he stammered back.
I didn't believe him, of course, but I wasn't going to pry. Instead, he turned to Percy.
"Percy, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"
"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
That sounded like quite a wonderful combination, to say the least.
Finally, desserts vanished just as the first part of the feast had. The only indications that it had taken place at all were the contented fullness of my stomach and the drowsiness that typically follows a satisfying meal.
Once again, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. Silence descended upon the fall instantaneously.
"Ahem– just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. 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 as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table. The twins mockingly saluted back. I rolled my eyes and got ready to listen next.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." I highly doubted anyone actually adhered to the rule.
"Quidditch trials are coming up in the second week of term. Anyone willing to play for their house teams should get in touch with Madam Hooch or their house's Quidditch Captain. And finally I must tell you that the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is strictly off-limits to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Bewildered, I raised my eyebrows in response. Looking around, I saw I wasn't the only one. Harry, ever fearless lad, even laughed, but he was one of the very few who did.
"Is this normal?" I muttered to Percy.
"No," replied Percy, as puzzled as the rest of us. "It's not. What's even more strange is that he usually gives a reason not to go somewhere, but he didn't even inform us, prefects." I wanted to huff at his inflated self-importance, but had to admit his words made sense. Something felt awfully suspicious here.
I shrugged, figuring it wasn't my concern anyway.
Once reassured that his message had been heard, he added, "And now, time for bed. Off you go!"
The first year Gryffindors followed Percy out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. I was trying my best to remember the way, but both physical and emotional tiredness made it very difficult. I reluctantly admitted I lost track of our path the second time we went through a doorway concealed behind a tapestry. More staircases, more yawning and we finally came to a halt.
Unfortunately, it wasn't due to reaching our destination. We were stopped by a bundle of walking sticks suspiciously floating in midair right ahead of our group. The moment Percy took one more step forward, they began to batter him up.
"Peeves– show yourself!" Percy raised his voice.
In response, a loud raspberry blowing filled the air.
"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"
Suddenly, with a pop, a small man materialized before us, causing all of us to jump in surprise. He had wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth. He was floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the sticks.
"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"
He abruptly swooped at them. We all ducked.
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.
Peeves pouted momentarily before disappearing. Doing so, he dropped the walking sticks that would hit Neville, did I not catch them in time. All of us heard him flying away, rattling suits of armor along the path.
"What was that?" asked Harry. "It wasn't a ghost, right?"
"Peeves is a poltergeist," explained Percy. "Unlike ghosts, he has never been alive to begin with, and he can touch objects, as you've seen. You want to watch out for him," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him. He won't even listen to us, prefects." I stifled my laugh. He made it sound as if it was the worst crime imaginable.
At long last, the entire procession reached a portrait of a very plump woman in a pink dress at the end of the corridor. As Percy gave a password, the portrait swung forward and we hurriedly passed through the opening in the wall. We stopped in the Gryffindor common room, a very warm, inviting room furnished full of plush armchairs.
At this point, the entire group divided into girls and boys, who hurriedly entered their respective dormitories. After climbing the last bit of the staircase, we finally found our bedroom: five four-poster beds with velvet curtains standing in a circle. Our luggage was already here, waiting for us. In silence, we changed into our pajamas and collapsed into our beds, too exhausted for a small talk. I made sure to empty all the candies from the train onto my nightstand.
Ready to dive into sweet dreams, I startled as something brushed off my fingers, making me snap my hand back. "Get off, Scabbers!" I barked at the fat rodent, who was apparently already here and not asleep for some reason. "Sorry, he's chewing my sheets." I apologetically explained to whoever had heard.
I pulled the fat rodent by his tail from my bed and put him on the bedside table, too lazy to dig up his cage.
Laying on my back, I reached my left hand upwards for a moment and smiled to myself. 'I made it,' was my last thought before I rolled over to the side and promptly fell asleep.