As it had turned out, the girl, Hermione, had been right about nearly being there. Soon enough, the train slowed and stopped, and people started shoving their way towards the exits as a conductor's voice rang out over the loudspeaker.

"Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Masses of students pushed their way out onto the platform; most seemed to know where they were going. However, a group forming beside the train seemed to be first-years who were just as confused as Ron and me. Hermione, Neville, whose toad was now once again perched atop his head, the boys from the train with blue and black hair, a blonde girl, and the "punk-rock" girl were all huddled together.

Ron and I joined them.

"Anyone know where we're supposed to go?"

"An older student said that there would be someone to come and collect us, so we're waiting for him," Hermione said in a matter-of-fact tone that made the punk-rock girl roll her eyes.

A familiar voice soon rang out. "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"

I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face as I made my way towards it. "Hagrid!"

"All right there, Harry?" Hagrid beamed as the other first years crowded around him. I nodded. "Have a good journey?" I nodded again. "Well, that's good." He beamed, "'C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

Hagrid led us down a narrow winding path that opened out onto a great dark lake, "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "'jus' round this bend here."

There were ooo's and aah's as the grand castle came into view perched on a cliff overhanging the lake.

"No more than four to a boat," Hagrid called as students started to climb into the small fleet of boats that had been assembled there; Hermione and Neville ended up in the same one as Ron and me.

"We're going to be crossing the lake?!" A bored, drawling voice that was actually starting rather to annoy me rang out.

I turned to see Draco Malfoy still standing on the shore, flanked by his "muscle," neither of whom I had heard speak.

"You can stay here o'course, but yeh'd miss the sorting. The carriages are likely already at the school, and I don't think Professor McGonagall would fancy too well having to come get ye."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle reluctantly climbed into the boat that already seated the punk-rock girl.

"Everyone in?'" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then – FORWARD!"

As the boats reached the cliff the school was perched upon, Hagrid guided them through a curtain of ivy that led into a cave. The cave housed a long stairway leading up to a grand set of oak doors. As he walked up to them, he checked to make sure everyone was still close behind him before raising his fist and knocking three times.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid beamed.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" A tall witch in emerald green robes stood before them. She looked stern and formidable. "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 an essential 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."

Professor McGonagall seemed to pause simply for dramatic effect before continuing. "The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its 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. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours." She scanned the crowd of first years before finally ending her speech with, "Now, if you may, form yourself into a line and follow me."

My legs suddenly felt as if they were made from jelly as Ron and I found ourselves between a sandy-haired boy and a tall boy with a dark expression.

Professor McGonagall led us through several corridors, stopping before another set of grand oak doors. She looked at us sternly one last time. "When your name is called, you will approach the stool and leave the rest to us; you need not be concerned."

"I'll kill Fred," Ron muttered, "he was going on about wrestling a troll."

We entered the great hall one by one, lining up against the long staff table at the front of the hall. I found myself silently wondering how such a strange and fantastic place was even allowed to exist; the entire room must have been the size of two Olympic swimming pools and was entirely lit by candles that floated just beneath the ceiling, which just so happened to be a perfect projection of the night sky outside.

A stool had been placed in front of us, and a hat had been put on it. The entire hall was now quiet.

The hat sprang to life almost instantly, a rip near the brim opening like a wide mouth.

"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 have 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!"

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward, holding a long scroll. "When I call your name, you will come forth, sit on the stool, place the hat on your head, and wait for the hat to make its decision."

"Abbott, Hannah." A blonde girl with a rather red face stepped forward. She had clearly been hoping she wouldn't be the first to be called.

"HUFFLEPUFF"

The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers, and Hannah went to sit among them. For the first time since we entered the Great Hall, I allowed myself to look out over the students' tables.

Very quickly, I spotted the girl from the train with the highlighter yellow hair, too, sitting at the Hufflepuff Table. However, she was throwing what seemed to be paper aeroplanes back and forth between another table, letting my gaze follow where they were heading when I realised that the Weasley Twins and the boy with dreadlocks, whose name I did not yet know, were at the receiving end. I stifled a laugh, pointing it out to Ron, who chuckled, leaning in to whisper. "Lee and Tonks… they're the Twins' best friends."

"Black, Asher." The boy with the black hair from the train was the second to be called and sorted, though, at the sound of his name, a chorus of murmurs rang out in the hall. The hat hardly touched his head when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN."

"Bones, Susan," Was another Hufflepuff.

"Boot, Terry," A Ravenclaw.

"Bulstrode, Millicent." A Slytherin.

I supposed all that I had heard so far about Slytherin must've been faithful, as many of them looked like the type of people you didn't want to come across in a dark alley. However, Asher Black, the first Slytherin who had been sorted, looked like he was about to be sick and had blanched whiter than a sheet of paper.

"Granger, Hermione." The hat took a few moments with her before shouting, "GRYFFINDOR."

Ron groaned.

Neville Longbottom had to hand his pet toad to Professor McGonagall before placing the hat atop his head, which took even longer to decide than it did with Hermione. When, at last, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" He jogged off to the Gryffindor table, realised he was still wearing the hat and jogged back, handing it to the next student and retrieving his toad from a disgruntled Professor McGonagall.

"Lupin, Ace," The blue-haired boy from the train was sorted into Hufflepuff.

Draco Malfoy got his wish, immediately being sorted into Slytherin, where he joined his cronies Crabbe and Goyle.

"Nott, Theodore," Was the next to join the Slytherin table, followed by "Parkinson, Pansy," the punk-rock girl who floated over to the table gracefully as if she didn't look like she was capable of decapitating someone.

"Potter, Harry."

Once again, murmurs broke out in the hall. I gulped gingerly, stepped forward, sat on the stool, and placed the hat on my head.

What I wasn't expecting, however, was for the hat to speak.

"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?"

I gulped again.

"Not Slytherin, eh?"

I gaped. I had not said a word out loud, yet it knew precisely what I had been thinking mere moments before.

"Someone didn't listen very closely to my song," the sorting hat sneered. "There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see." The hat went through the tune again. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know; it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness. There is no doubt about that."

There was pressure forming in my throat as I tried to will myself not to panic when the hat finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR."

The hall burst into cheers again, and the Weasley Twins and their friend Lee started chanting, "We got Potter, We got Potter!"

Later, as the line narrowed to only two people, Ron was also sorted into Gryffindor, while "Zabini, Blaise" was the final Slytherin.

There was now a podium where the sorting hat and its stool once stood. "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!"

I leaned toward one of the Weasleys, Percy, and asked sincerely, "Is he a bit mad?"

Percy laughed, "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

"I'm half and half," Said Seamus Finnigan, another first-year who had been sorted into Gryffindor. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when I got my letter."

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked.

"Well, my gran brought me up, and she's a witch… she's… well, she's a bit of a cunt if I'm being honest. Claimed I was all muggle and had no survival skills for ages. She kept paying my Great Uncle Algie to catch me off guard and try to force some magic out of me; he even pushed me off Blackpool Pier once." Neville's face had gone a bit pink at this admittance, "But when we got the letter for my placement exam, Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad!"

By the time the meal had finished, Dumbledore once again stood at the high table, and the hall fell silent once more. "Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." As I listened to Dumbledore's speech, I let my eyes wander to each of the people sitting at the teacher's table. I noticed Professor Quirrel, who I had met in Diagon Alley, talking to a pale-faced man with a sour expression on his face who was undoubtedly looking at me.

"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."

It was there and gone as quickly as it came, a searing burn spreading across my forehead as if my scar had been natural lightning that had just struck.

"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."

"You alright, mate?" Ron looked at me, concerned, when I clamped my hand over my forehead, willing the pain to go away.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

Finally, the pain subsided, and I played it off as if I simply had a headache before glancing back up to the teacher's table.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die an excruciating death."

The pale-faced teacher was still staring directly at me.