Rory Potter, the Girl Who Lived

The Sorting Hat

The door swings open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stands there. She looks very stern; definately not someone you'd want to cross.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," says Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
She pulls the door wide. The entrance hall is enormous, and as we follow Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, I stare at everything. The stone walls are lit with flaming torches. The ceiling is too high to make out. Magnificent marble staircases facing us lead to the upper floors. Professor McGonagall leads us to a small, empty chambers off the great hall.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," says Professor McGonnagall. "The start-of-the-term feast will begin shortly, but first you must be sorted into your houses. Your house is like your family. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, good behavior will earn your house points, however, rule-breaking will lose your house points. At the end of the year, the house cup is awarded to the house with the most points.
"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."
Professor McGonagall leaves the chamber. A few minutes later, she returns and leads us to the great hall. We all gasp and stare. It's lit by hundreds of floating candles, which are hovering over four long tables set with golden plates and goblets. Another long table faces the four, where the professors sit. I look up and see a velevty black ceiling shining with millions of stars.
Professor McGonagall sets a stool in from of the teacher's table, and upon that a torn and faded old wizard's hat. The hall falls into complete silence. The hat twitches. A rip in the brim opens and the hat begins to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge by 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're 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 wil use any means
To achieve thier ends.
So put me on! Don't be afriad!
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 bursts into applause as the hat finishes it's song. It bows to each of the four tables then goes still once more. Professor McGonagall steps forwards, now holding a long roll of parchment.
"Now, when I call your name, please step up, put on the hat, and sit on the stool to be sorted," she says, "Abbott, Hannah!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouts the hat.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
And so on and so on. Hermione is called before me and I smile encouragingly, giving her a thumbs up.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat yells.
When its Neville's turn, he joins Hermione in Gryffindor, but forgets to take off the hat and has to jog back up to give it to the next person. Draco Malfoy swaggers up when his name is called, and the hat screams, "SLYTHERIN!"
I can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, but I'm quickly distracted by Harry's name being called. That means I'm next. After a moment, the hat yells, "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Potter, Rory!"
I step up to the stool and sit, putting on the hat. My face pales in fear. Then a voice sounds in my ear.
"Ahh, Harry Potter's twin. You are equally as difficult as your brother was. But you have too much Gryffindor in you . . . and Ravenclaw . . . hmm, make it . . . GRYFFINDOR!"
I let out the breath I'd been holding and settle into a grin, feeling hyper and shaky now that its over. I stumble over to the Gryffindor and take a seat next to Hermione. She grins and throws her arms around me.
"I knew you'd be with me!" she says. "I never doubted it!"
It seems that I've got a new best friend. Ron is sorted into Gryffindor as well, and I let out a sigh of relief. All my friends are in the same house. The sorting finishes soon, and the feast begins. Food appears on the golden platters.
"Welcome!" Professor Dumbledore calls out, standing up. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I'd like to say a few words. And her they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
We all begin to eat. Salads of all kinds, boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, and mashed potatoes, rolls, glazed carrots, peas, beans and more. I load my plate up with salad and such, but I don't touch any meat (I'm vegetarian). It all looks amazing. When we've all eaten enough, the food and remnants fade from the platters and plates, replaces moments later by desert. I have apple pie as I talk to Hermione.
Finally I look up at the teachers. I notice Professor Quirrel, in his odd purple turban, talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nods, and sallow skin. Then the teacher with a hooked nose meets my eyes. A shape pain flares across the scar on my hand.
"Ouch!" I clench my hand into a fist. Harry looks at me in concern, so I nod in the direction of the hook-nosed teacher. He gasps and smacks a hand to his forehead.
​​​​​​ "Say, Percy, who's that teacher talk into Professor Quirrel?" I ask.
"That's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions. But he's after Quirrel's job - knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, he does," Percy says.
"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all and watered," Dumbledore says, standing up once more. "First years please note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden for all pupils. A few older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flash in the direction of Fred and George.
"And also, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die most painful death."
I laugh, but I'm one of the few who does.
"And now, let us sing the school song. Everyone pick their favourite tune and let's off!" Dumbledore says, flicking his wand. The lyrics appear in the air, written in gold ribbons.
"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 of air, dead flies and bits of fluff, 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!"
Everyone finishes at different times, as we're singng different tunes. Finally, all that's left is the Weasley twins, singing a painfully slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducts the last few lines with his wand, the sighs and wipes his eyes, "Ahh, music! A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
The Gryffindor first years follow Percy to a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress.
"Password?" she says.
"Caput Draconis," Percy says, and the portrait swings forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. We all scramble through it and find ourselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
Percy directs the girls up through our door to the dormitories, and at the top of a spiral staircase, we find our beds. I'm sharing a room with Hermione, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil. Hermione and I choose four poster beds next to each other (I'm in front of the window and she's next the me). I collapse to the bed, finding my things already there. I make myself pull on pajamas before curling up and falling asleep with Ivy on my feet.