Hazel Potter // WTM

CHAPTER 8: The sorting hat & Dorm mates

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

" Damn...he kinda humbled you, Ron." Once Hazel thought about it, she couldn't avoid how hard Draco insults are.

" Don't remind me." Ron grumbled. George reached over and ruffled his hair. " Ow, ronnie-kins is upset."

" Oh, poor baby." Fred pinched Rons cheeks.

" Quit it, you two." Ron smacked their hands away.

He turned back to Hazel. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Hazel's, but Hazel didn't take it. Ron didn't have much, but he gave Hazel the only thing she wanted.

A friend.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," she said coolly.

" SlAY QUEEN!" Sirius yelled. 

" Ay, she humbled that snobby brat." Marlene and lily high-fived each other.

" That's My daughter!" James yelled, giving Draco the 'L'.

" OUR daughter James."

" Yeah, James, OURS!"

Draco's face fell, his demeanor dwindled down but then anger rose up in his eyes, but he couldn't act on it, not when Professor McGonagall came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

" We're ready for you know," McGonagall said, looking at all the first years. " Follow me."

Feeling odd as though her legs had turned to lead, Hazel got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Hazel had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. 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. 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. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Hazel looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She 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.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Hazel asked Ron as they moved their feet to catch up with Professor McGonagall's quick pace.

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

Hazel's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school?

" I would have jumped off the train if that was true." Barty mumbled.

" You would jump off anything." Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"...True, mate, but...yeah."

 But she didn't know any magic yet—what on earth would she have to do? She hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. She looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. 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. Hazel tried hard not to listen to her. She'd never been more nervous, never, not even when she had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that she somehow turned her teacher's wig blue.