The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

The Start of Term Feast

Sorting is not  about splitting up or breaking apart

But simply refining the values you hold dear to your heart
For you'll find others like you sort to the house you're in -

Be it in Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffidor, or Slytherin

So gather 'round young firsties, wear me and see
Which of the four your house shall be

It won't hurt, I won't bite - I promise most sincerely

I simply will look about 'til I see your intentions clearly.

Be you a treasurer of wisdom and wit
Then I shall say that Ravenclaw would be your best fit
Or perhaps rather you focus on courage and brawn

Well then, Gryffindor will be where you'll belong

Some see the whole picture with ambition and goal
Slytherin, then, is where you shall go

And if it's balance and truth which comforts your mind
Then in Hufflepuff your house you will find

But at the end of the day, we are together in this very Hall

United as Witches and Wizards - both elder and small -

Having lots to learn and magic to wield

Working together to see the wizarding world healed

From all of the pains and damages and ruin
Caused by the dark war that's quietly brewin'

And the only way through is together, not spread apart --
True magic is made with goodness  found deep in your heart.

Quiet filled the Great Hall as the Sorting Hat's song ended and the words seemed to hang almost visibly in the air for a moment for several seconds before everyone began clapping at all of the house tables and there were stamps and shouts from some of the older students around the room and James heard Flitwick let out a whistle of approval and he looked over at the tiny Professor who was flushed as he clapped enthusiastically.

Professor McGonagall allowed the cheering to go on a moment before she stepped up, withdrawing a scroll from her pocket, and took a deep breath, placing spectacles upon her nose as she unrolled the scroll, letting the length of it roll down - it wasn't a very large class this year, James noted, looking over the cloud of first years before him, and he wondered if it might be due to the war raging throughout the wizarding world in the UK. He'd read in the Daily Prophet over the summer that a lot of the prominent families had opted to send their students out of the country to attend other Wizarding schools like Durmstrang or Ilvermorny this year because of the war. Fear was rising steadily as word of attacks like the Giants in Dunegal and the werewolf outbreak in Blackburn spread.

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, calling the attention of everyone in the room.

"When I call your name, you shall step up, take a seat on the stool, and you will be sorted," she announced, and the first years looked between one another with excitement, jostling about. "Abbott, Arthur!" McGonagall called out.

A short boy with blonde hair and wide brown eyes behind thin rimmed glasses climbed onto the plinth and climbed onto the stool. He clutched his fingers around the seat of the thing and McGonagall placed the hat upon his head. The hat thought, the brim moving the way a person's lips might do when contemplating, and finally the hat called out, "RAVENCLAW!"

A great shout went up from the Ravenclaw table and James watched as the boy slid from the stool and rushed across the plinth to the table where all the kids with blue-lined robes stood waving and beckoning him on.