Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: Mine? I wish!

Acknowledgements: notsosaintly and Dark Beta are tied for first place in the Totally Awesome Awards. (Er, does anyone actually say "totally awesome" anymore?)

Scene: Yet another day. It's a pleasant Friday afternoon, and the gang is all outside on the lawn, studying under a tree. Alastor abruptly puts his quill down.

Alastor: Well, that tears it. I've done my long-range chart five times now, and it keeps telling me I'm going to lose a buttock within the year!

Minerva: I trust you're not going to take that sitting down!

Alastor: Hah, bloody hah. I don't know why I signed up for bloody Divination in the first place.

Robert: I've always thought it was a bit of a half-arsed subject.

Minerva: I knew you were going to say that!

Xiomara: And which planet gave you that prophecy, Al?

Pomona: Don't answer that! Al, you do realize you've set yourself to be the butt of every joke for the next week?

Alastor: (Digging into his book-bag and pulling out the Book) This is called providing a distraction.

Xiomara: Ah! I've been waiting for that, but I wasn't about to sit up and beg. Everyone put your textbooks away. It's Recreation Time!

Xiomara: Chapter Seven, The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

Minerva: Is this that cat-Animagus again?

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

Robert: Sounds like it.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it.

Xiomara: Except for the curly pink tail waving out of one window.

The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out,

Xiomara: Who makes out on the ceiling?

Robert: Hey, you're the flying expert, Xia!

and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right - the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"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.

Pomona: You ALL are my family!

Robert/Minerva: Awww!

Filius: Does that mean it would be incestuous if I asked you out, Mona?

Pomona: I'll think of you as a distant cousin, Flit.

You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

Robert: And speaking of incestuous...

Xiomara: They could start to get a little sick of each other.

Pomona: And she forgot to mention that we also eat with our housemates.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history

All: BUT MINE'S THE BEST!

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.

Robert: What if you triumph while you're rule-breaking?

Filius: I think it depends on who catches you.

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."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear,

Robert: Let's see; if it's fastened under his left ear, it means he's available, if it's under his right ear, he's spoken for?

and on Ron's smudged nose.

Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

Pomona: From what they've said, that wouldn't take magic, it would take a miracle!

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

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

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

Robert: So much for waiting quietly.

Minerva: Well, she didn't say they had to be completely silent.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Pomona: Oh, that would be a fine way to start a child's school career! Can you imagine how many Muggle-borns would turn around and go straight home?

Robert: I don't know, Mona. After hearing about that "Smeltings" place, I don't think anything in a wizarding school could be much worse!

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt.

Robert: Which unleashed his untrained power...

Minerva: Causing a violent earthquake...

Pomona: Which brought the roof of the Great Hall crashing down...

Filius: Students and teachers alike dove under their tables...

A test? In front of the whole school? 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 anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too.

Pomona: Funny, I was more curious than frightened. I guess I assumed they wouldn't throw anything at us that we couldn't handle.

Filius: Spoken like a true Hufflepuff!

No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need.

Robert: Merlin, is she in for a disappointment!

Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue.

Filius: And it just wasn't her color!

He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air -

Pomona: Where he hovered, wondering how to get back down.

several people behind him screamed.

Robert/Minerva: COME DOWN FROM THERE!!!

"What the - ?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance - "

Robert: Who? This Mouldiwarp character? ^*1

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves?

Xiomara: Definitely! If I get hit with one more balloon full of ink...!

He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -

Pomona: He's not?

Minerva: No, a poltergeist was never a living person. It's a quasi-life form that grows out of an intense build-up of strong emotions, er, desires, and so on, usually associated with adolescents. In a place like Hogwarts, which has been full of magical adolescents for over a thousand years... Well, I don't think there's a single wizarding school in the world that doesn't have a poltergeist, and ours is more powerful and fully developed than most.

Filius: Simply more proof that Hogwarts is the best! Er, I think.

Robert: Minna, did you swallow the textbook again?

(Minerva sticks her tongue out at him.)

Pomona: That explains why he's so colorful when all the other ghosts are silvery and see-through. I've been wondering about that.

I say, what are you all doing here?"

Robert: Well, let's think. We're all about eleven; it's the start of the school year... What do you think we're doing here?

Alastor: Not always wise, making easy assumptions, lad. If you'll check history, you'll find spies as young as that. Or some who just looked like they were.

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

Filius: Children, mind your manners and answer the nice ghost.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."

Pomona: He's such a sweetheart!

Xiomara: Our House has the best ghost!

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Pomona: We're all going to play Follow the Leader. Won't that be fun?

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair,

Robert: He'd just gotten back from the beach?

with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair

Minerva: If that spell ever malfunctioned, I'd hate to see the results!

Xiomara: Hmmm, you can get some interesting effects with hot wax...

Pomona: I know. I love batik prints... (Pause while she slowly realizes and turns red.) Xia!

Alastor: Beeswax, eh?

Xiomara: Mind your own!

over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets.

Alastor: Golden goblins? What were they doing there?

Xiomara: Gob-lets, Al. Come on, you drink out of them all the time!

Alastor: Oh, right. Them.

At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

Alastor: But only after the teachers had had a chance to size up the new arrivals.

The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty and 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 on to the heavens.

Xiomara: After the earthquake, it did!

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently place 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.

Pomona: Why do I have the feeling the Hat wouldn't let Aunt Petunia into a House either?

Minerva: I wonder what would happen if they tried to wash the Hat?

Robert: After a thousand years? It would disintegrate completely!

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly,

Filius: One of those chocolate ones, Mona?

that seemed to be the sort of thing - noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he 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 myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

Alastor: A smarter hat wouldn't make that offer.

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.

Pomona: Oooh! Pun!

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

Alastor: Sounds a bit like invasion of privacy, to me!

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;

Pomona: And we labor in the soil!

Robert: Though the weather freeze or boil.

Minerva: And we'd never have a Goyle.

Pomona: Now, that's not true. If the Hat ever sorted one of the Goyles into Hufflepuff, we'd accept him. Or her.

Xiomara: Ahem!

Pomona: Oh, sorry, Xia. Go on.

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!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Minerva: Why do children believe the most horrible threats anyone older can come up with? How likely is it that a school would force a First Year - a brand new First Year no less - to wrestle a troll?

Alastor: Why do older siblings seem to take such pleasure in scaring the younger ones?

Minerva: That too!

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.

Minerva: That's all those snacks on the train taking their toll!

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 girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

Pomona and Xiomara: YAY!!!

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

Xiomara: So there are a few Bones left!

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

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Filius/Robert: Well done, Terry Boot, whoever you are!

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

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor,

Minerva: Her name is Lavender Brown?

Robert: Why not Lavender Blue?

Minerva: Dilly-dilly...^*2

and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent"

Pomona: NOOOOO!!!

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.

Pomona: Well, after anyone named "Bulstrode" joined them... I certainly hope there's a Moody or two in Harry's year to balance things out!

He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

Pomona: They're still doing that in Harry's time? Don't Muggle teachers ever learn any sensitivity?

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

Alastor: "Finch-Fletchley". Anyone recognize that name?

Xiomara: No, but it sounds so much like "Finch Fledgling," this chap must be for the birds! ^*3

Others: (Groan.)

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

Minerva: And may he never shame us. ^*4

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

Xiomara: Now that's confidence!

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

Filius: Really? I would have pegged her as one of mine.

Robert: Ours.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

Xiomara: Can you imagine the fuss if that ever happened?

Minerva: I don't think it could happen.

Alastor: But if it did, they'd have to modify the child's memory, modify the family's memories...

Filius: Arrange for the child to get enrolled in a Muggle school a bit belatedly, with some reasonable excuse for why they were enrolling so late...

Robert: Find out how the locating spell could have gotten it wrong...

Alastor: And whether someone could have botched it up deliberately. And then there'd still be the worry over whether the kid had told a Muggle friend or two about being a wizard in spite of all the warnings to keep it quiet.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool.

Xiomara: His toad tripped him!

The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR." Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Robert: If the Hat accepted this poor Neville kid, Harry's got nothing to worry about!

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed,

Minerva: I'd scream too if I had to touch that little...

"SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went off to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon"...

Alastor: "Moon"? What about "Moody"?

Pomona: Don't worry, Al, your grandchildren are probably already in second or third year.

"Nott"... "Parkinson"...

Alastor: Oh good! Basil Parkinson's all right. If his descendents are still Slytherins it should off-set the Malfoy influence.

then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"...,

Robert: "Patil" What kind of name is that?

Minerva: Pakistani, I think.

then "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.

Pomona: Everyone form a bucket brigade!

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Xiomara: Well, how many are there?

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes

Robert: Well, at least we know he doesn't have a swelled head.

was the hall 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?"

Alastor: He's a parselmouth, for Merlin's sake! Where do you think you should put him?!

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure?

Alastor: No, he's not!

You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness,

Alastor: Exactly!

no doubt about that - no? well, if you're sure - better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Alastor: WHAT?! Do that over! The Sorting was fixed!

(Minerva folds her arms and looks very smug.)

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 put in Slytherin, 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!"

Alastor: Minna, gloating is never becoming!

Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

Pomona: That's one thing I really miss about school during the summer; If only I had one of the Hogwarts ghosts around in August!

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.

(The whole group cheers. Other students on the lawn give them odd looks.)

Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog 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 turban.

Minerva: Those things are a bear to put on! I wonder why he doesn't just wear a hat.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw

Pomona: I wonder if she could be any descendant of Dick Turpin?

Filius: Who?

Pomona: Oh, right. He was a highwayman - a kind of bandit - who lived in around the 1730's.

Alastor: And how do you know so much about the history of bandits, my girl?

(Pomona sticks her tongue out at him.)

and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now.

Filius: What, not emerald?

Alastor: Funny if he makes it into Slytherin. Teach him a lesson about judging...

Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted,

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Xiomara: Why do I get the feeling that everybody who's anybody in this book...?

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

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Robert: Clutched in her teeth because she'd turned into a cat again?

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.

Pomona: Small meals and often. Best way to make up for long-term deprivation.

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.

Robert: (pouting) Gosh, I thought it was just us he liked!

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

Xiomara: Makes more sense than some speeches I've heard!

"Thank you!"

Xiomara: You're welcome.

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he - a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.

Minerva: Magnificently mad!

Pomona: Mad, Good and Comforting to Know! ^*5

Others: What?

Pomona: It's... well, I'll explain later.

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

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, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Filius: So they're still doing that in the nineties? Not that I mind, but I've never quite understood it.

Alastor: Useful though. Helps clear your taste-buds out between dishes - easier to tell if anything's wrong with the food.

Xiomara: Al, only you would expect to get poisoned at a Hogwarts feast. And don't say "Constant Vigilance" either!

Filius: Now, I'd put the poison in the humbugs. They're so strongly flavored you wouldn't notice until too late...

(Alastor gives him a pointed look.)

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick.

Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat.

Pomona: And what, pray tell, did he have against peppermints?

Robert: Maybe he'd been talking to Flit.

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 years," said the ghost.

Pomona: I've always felt sorry for the ghosts about that. You don't suppose this is their Hell, do you?

Filius: What, hanging around the Great Hall and unable to eat? It would have to be the punishment for the "Naughty" types. Full-blown sinners would get something worse!

Minerva: Hanging around the Library and unable to read?

Robert: Oooh! Cruel!

"I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you -

Alastor: And you'd trust their word?

you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Xiomara: Nearly stupid? How can you be nearly stupid?

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

Pomona: Hah! He loves the attention!

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces,

Pomona: (as Nick) What did I say?

Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So - new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the Cup six years in a row!

Alastor: Only to be expected.

The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost."

Minerva: Al, gloating is never becoming!

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

Alastor: I've been trying to find that out for years!

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

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, chocolate Žclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding...

Pomona: And it's lovely... oh, right, I did that one already.

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

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me 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."

Minerva: I like a joke as well as anyone...

Others: We know!

Minerva: ...but that's going overboard!

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages.

Minerva: "All Muggle"? But the Longbottoms are a wizarding family. If he had no magic, he'd be a Squib, not a Muggle...

Robert: His gran brought him up? I guess he must be another Voldemort orphan.

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. 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.

Pomona: Even for a meringue, that's inexcusable!

Alastor: Are they sure it was an accident? Some families, if they think they've produced a Squib...

But I bounced - all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying,

Minerva: She should have been bashing "Uncle Algie"!

she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here - they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

Filius: The hopping toad was meant to be in honor of the boy bouncing?

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult - ";

Xiomara: Which is exactly why you're so eager, you little show off!

Alastor: Nothing wrong with wanting to test herself.

"You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing - ").

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and Sallow skin.

Pomona: And this year's Most Charming Smile award goes to...

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look - a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

Alastor: The plot thickens.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.

"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."

Robert: Snape. Well, there's another old wizarding family that's still around.

Minerva: Wasn't there a Snape in Ravenclaw?

Filius: Lavinia. She graduated last year. Brilliant girl, but dreadful hair problem.

Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered.

Minerva: And brushed and curried?

Robert: Quit stalling!

Xiomara: You two are unstable.

Filius: Still trotting out the same old chestnuts, I see.

Pomona: (Groans) He wins!

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 other students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

Robert: Didn't old Dippet look a bit pointedly at us when he mentioned that last fall?

Minerva: For the last three falls, Robbie. But he didn't twinkle!

"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.

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

Xiomara: Hello?

"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 a very painful death."

Xiomara: Never mind the painful death. Get back to that part about "Madam Hooch"!

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

Pomona: Oooh, that'll make him look bad.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

Xiomara: Sod all that! Why am I working at Hogwarts? I'm supposed to be playing professional Quidditch! Er, if that's me he was talking about...

Pomona: Maybe you did. And then you retired and started coaching.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

Xiomara: "Everyone pick your favorite tune??"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

Minerva: Speak for yourself!

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Filius: Delightful incentive!

Everybody finished the song at different times.

Filius: That's not the school song I remember learning!

Robert: It sounds like something Dumbles would come up with.

Pomona: It's certainly more fun than the stodgy old thing we've got now!

At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march.

Filius: In honor of the victims they had targeted for pranks this year?

Alastor: Aye, it's always the ones who think they're clever who give themselves away.

Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

Pomona: He must get an awful lot of fun out of being Headmaster.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food.

Alastor: Not that he'd recognize any of the enervating potions if he had been dosed, poor boy.

He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.

Alastor: For Merlin's sake, pay attention, lad! Just because he seems friendly doesn't prove he's not leading you into an ambush!

They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

Minerva: Didn't their mothers ever teach them that throwing yourself at a boy will only lose his respect?

Robert: (ruefully) I suppose your mother did?

Xiomara: (aside) Don't worry. She doesn't always listen to her Mum.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist."

Filius: Really? We thought it was a natural phenomenon!

Xiomara: Trust me, there is nothing natural about Peeves!

He raised his voice,

"Peeves - show yourself!"

Xiomara: But don't take that too literally.

Pomona: Xia!

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

Minerva: And there's another one who should lay off the haggis!

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

Xiomara: You don't want to know where we want you to go!

Filius: Poetry!

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

Filius: That simple sentence would fill me with a lot more dread than the Sorting did, if I were a First Year!

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head.

Pomona: Why do I have the feeling that poor Neville boy is going to be the butt of every joke?

Xiomara: Like Al, you mean?

Alastor: Blast, I thought I was off the hot-seat!

They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

Filius: An ordinary ghost would settle for rattling some chains, but Peeves just has to be different!

"You want to watch out for Peeves," 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.

Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

Pomona: Fat? She just has big bones!

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis,"

Robert: That's a new one!

said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it - Neville needed a leg up - and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Minerva: Hasn't changed then.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another.

Xiomara: Damn. Neither has that.

At the top of a spiral staircase - they were obviously in one of the towers - they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. To tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

Pomona: Maybe he needs acting lessons?

Robert: What?

Pomona: Oh - Muggle expression. "Chewing the scenery" means over-acting - especially in really dramatic, emotional scenes.

Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.

Alastor: Just tired, or drugged?

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much,

Filius: For the first time in his life...

because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny.

Alastor: Intelligent turban!

Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin;

Alastor: Harry, you haven't even tried it!

it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully -

Minerva: Just grab one of the strips and unravel it!

and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it - then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold - there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.

He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

Xiomara: And so ends Chapter Seven.

Minerva: Sounds like Harry's out of the frying pan and headed toward the fire.

Pomona: Well, at least he has some idea of what's going on now.

Filius: Is it time for more buttocks jokes? I didn't get to make one earlier.

Alastor: Another chapter! Xia, give him the book - quickly!

^{* 1} "Mouldiwarp" is an old word for "mole".

^{* 2} Lavender blue, dilly-dilly,

Lavender green.

When you are king, dilly-dilly

I'll be your queen.

^{* 3} Does anyone still use the expression "For the birds"? (And for that matter, was anyone using it as early as the 1930's?)

^{* 4} For those who don't know, the name "Seamus" is pronounced like "shame us".

^{* 5} The original quote is "Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know". Said by Lady Caroline Lamb about her lover, Lord Byron.