𝖇𝖆𝖉 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 || ᴘᴊᴏ x ʜᴘ

03 - 𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝕲𝖗𝖞𝖋𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖗???

What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "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?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

"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!" the Friar said. "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 the first years. "And follow me."

Holly felt a hollow pit in her stomach, it might've even made a low rumble but bile was rising fast to Holly's throat for her to care. She knew she shouldn't have eaten all those beans.

She got in line behind Hannah, Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot behind them as they followed the others out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. Or what Holly assumed was the Great Hall.

It was everything she dreamt it would be, just like how her Aunt described it. It 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. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. 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.

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 silver.

Finally, Holly looked up at the ceiling and almost exploded.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." Hermione whispered.

Holly turned to Hannah and then Hermione, a smile plastered on her excited face as she beamed.

Then, Professor McGonagall silently placed 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. The Sorting Hat!

Everyone in the hall was staring at the hat. 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!"