The Weasley of Slytherin: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 7: House Sorting

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. "Dunno starting to think that lady was just lying about that candy." I told them.

"Ah you must be the 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."

"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 us "and follow me."

Feeling as though I was about to be sick, I got into line behind Ron, with Harry in front of him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

The room was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting, each laid with glittering golden plates and goblets.

At the top of the hall was another long table where I assumed the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led us so that we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

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

I looked up at the ceiling, letting out a gasp as I saw it was dark, and covered in little stars. I heard Hermione whisper from nearby, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

I couldn't believe my eyes, even having lived my whole life with magic I had never seen anything this amazing before.

Ron nudged me, pointing towards Professor McGonagall, who had silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat that was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

My mind was flying, what did he have to do with this hat? Fight what ever came out of it? Transfigure it into something?

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.

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!"

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.