Chapter 2: The Sorting Hat

The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

'The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall,' said Hagrid.

'Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.'

'She pulled the door wide, revealing the enormous Entrance Hall. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches and there was a magnificent marble staircase facing them, twisting away and up towards a ceiling that Harry couldn't see.

Professor McGonagall led them across the flagged stone floor and Harry heard the drone of hundreds of voices coming from behind a large door to their right. The rest of the school must already be here, waiting for them, however Professor McGonagall showed them into a small chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer to each other than they usually would have, and Castiel rubbed his arm nervously.

'Welcome to Hogwarts,' said Professor McGonagall. 'The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your houses will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

'The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose you house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

'The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the whole school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you're waiting.

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and Sherlock's messy curls that obscured most of his face. Harry nervously tried to flatten his own hair.

'I shall return when we are ready for you,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Please wait quietly.'

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

'How exactly do they sort us into our houses?' he asked Ron.

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

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? He looked around to see everyone else looked just as terrified as he felt. Well, almost everyone. Sherlock didn't look terrified, at least not as far as Harry could tell through his hair; he looked like he was calculating something.

Sherlock was, in fact, examining the students around him. It was much more fun to think about their tiny habits than the Sorting Ceremony. It was such a tedious thing, but at least he had a chance to figure out if there was anyone worth talking to (there probably wasn't but there was always a chance).

Firstly, Harry Potter. Sherlock was very intrigued by his story and was fairly certain he would be able to figure out what had happened if he could review all the facts, although that was now impossible and Sherlock had no illusions concerning his readiness to interrogate Lord Voldemort. Secondly, Hermione Granger. She seemed intelligent enough but liked to show it an awful lot, not that Sherlock didn't like to show off, but there was something about her bossiness or her voice that had Sherlock's mouth twisting. Perhaps if he had more data he could make a better judgement. Then there was John Watson. Looking at all the facts he knew so far, he should be dull and utterly boring, but there was something in him that sparked an interest. Finally there was Castiel, whose surname was unknown to him. He seemed to be very secretive and Sherlock was determined to unravel the mystery that surrounded his demeanour. He looked him over and saw him holding his left elbow. It seemed to him that he'd broken it at some point and it had healed wrong, which had probably caused him a great deal of pain, but was now more of a nervous twitch or habit than actual, physical pain. Why was it he hated introducing himself? Why does he wear that trench coat and why was he so different from his older sister, who seemed twisted in many different ways? So many fascinating questions and Sherlock was sure he'd have plenty of time to answer them because, going by the look of him, he would be in Ravenclaw. Sherlock broke out of his reverie when he heard people uttering surprised gasps and looked to see about twenty, pearly-white and slightly transparent ghosts glide across the room, hardly glancing at the first-years.

'Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-' a fat little monk was saying.

'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.

'New students!' said the 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 the first-years, 'and follow me.'

John's chest constricted and he found himself unable to breath past a shallow gasp. He got shakily in line behind Sherlock and was aware of Castiel hesitating, then joining the back of the line. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through the pair of great double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. It was so grand and wonderful that even Sherlock's eyes widened with awe. 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 amongst the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, 'it's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.' And Sherlock hiss, 'That's great; now tell us something we don't know.'

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open onto the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as 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, frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to pull a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing- noticing that everyone else was staring at the hat, he stared at it too. 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 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'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 still again.

'So we've just got to try on a hat!' Ron whispered to Harry. 'I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll.'

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on a hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking an awful lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

'When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put on the hat to be sorted,' she said. 'Abbott, Hannah!'

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause-

'HUFFLEPUFF!' shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

'Bones, Susan!'

The girl that had shared a boat with Sherlock, John and Castiel tried on the hat.

'HUFFLEPUFF!' shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

'Boot, Terry!'

'RAVENCLAW!'

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

'Brocklehurst, Mandy' went to Ravenclaw too, but 'Brown, Lavender' became the first Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

'Bulstrode, Millicent' then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked an unpleasant lot.

'Edlund, Castiel!'

Castiel walked up, visibly shaking, and put on the hat. Harry saw him glance at Gabriel at the Hufflepuff table, who smiled encouragingly, and purposely avoid Lucy's wicked grin from the Slytherin table. It took a moment, and it almost looked as if the Sorting Hat was trying to coax him into giving up his thoughts, but finally it shouted,

'RAVENCLAW!'

He thought he saw Gabriel's smile flicker for a moment, although he might have imagined it because a second later it was as wide as ever.

Harry was definitely starting to feel sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during sports lessons at his old school. He had always been picked last, not because he wasn't any good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

'Finch-Fletchley, Justin!'

'HUFFLEPUFF!'

'Finnigan, Seamus', the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

'Granger, Hermione!'

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

'GRYFFINDOR!' shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked the hat off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?'

'Holmes, Sherlock!'

Sherlock strode up to the stool with a slight air of boredom and, no sooner had the hat touched his head, it shouted.

'RAVENCLAW!'

He went quickly down to the Ravenclaw table and sat himself next to Castiel.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted 'GRYFFINDOR!' Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to 'MacDougal, Morag'.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his smoothed back hair when it screamed 'SLYTHERIN!'

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

'Moon'… 'Nott'… 'Parkinson'… then a pair of twin girls, 'Patil' and 'Patil'… then 'Perks, Sally-Ann'… and then, at last-

'Potter, Harry!'

As Harry stepped forwards, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

'Potter, did she say?'

'The Harry Potter?'

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the Hall full of people craning to get a good look at him.

John and Ron looked on anxiously; the hat seemed to be taking an awfully long time. From the Ravenclaw table Sherlock and Castiel waited expectantly.

'What house do you think he'll be in?' Castiel whispered.

'Gryffindor, almost certainly,' replied Sherlock. After several minutes of buzzing silence the hat finally shouted,

'GRYFFINDOR!'

This got the loudest cheer yet and Ron scrunched up his face in embarrassment as Percy stood up and shook Harry's hand pompously.

'Now there were only four people left to be sorted. 'Turpin, Lisa' became a Ravenclaw, then,

'Watson, John!'

He wobbled forwards and sat down, placing the hat on his blonde head.

'Oooh, interesting,' a voice whispered in his head, making him cringe. 'So much kindness and loyalty, no doubt you would fit perfectly in Hufflepuff, but there's something else. There's an impulsive streak to you, I see, and a certain disregard for the rules. Now where would be best for you? Hufflepuff would encourage your loyalty, certainly, but you already have plenty of that. Your impulsiveness could be useful, yes-

'GRYFFINDOR!'

He grinned and took off the hat, running to sit next to Harry.

Finally it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat shouted, 'GRYFFINDOR!'

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair beside John.

'Well done Ron, excellent,' said Percy as 'Zabini, Blaise' was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realised how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

'Welcome!' he said. 'Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

'Thank you!'

He sat back down. Everyone clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

'Is he- a bit mad?' he asked Percy uncertainly.

'Mad?' said Percy airily. 'He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes Harry?'

Sherlock watched John, Harry and Ron from his table and snorted into his mashed potatoes as the ghost of Gryffindor Tower popped up through the table, causing Ron to drop the chicken leg he was holding in shock. He looked up the table and ducked down as Mycroft, his brown-haired, Head Boy brother, looked in his direction imperiously. He peered around Castiel and was relieved to see that his brother had turned back to his Yorkshire puddings. He sighed and sat up properly but frowned as he noticed Castiel's plate was completely empty.

'Are you all right?' he asked. The question took a moment to register, when it finally did, he looked right at him. His face still looked pale and up this close, Sherlock could see the dark circles under his eyes,

'Yes, I'm fine,' he said.

'But you haven't eaten anything.'

Castiel kept eye contact, staring at him curiously.

'No, I suppose I haven't.'

He grabbed a spoon and piled roast potatoes onto is plate, proceeding to eat them carefully. Sherlock frowned again but said nothing more.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the puddings appeared. Blocks if ice-cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

'I'm half and half,' said Seamus. 'Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.'

John phased out of the conversation and looked over at Sherlock, who was picking at an apple pie and looking extremely disgruntled. A tall boy with a pointy nose was jabbering in his ear. It must be the brother he'd mentioned earlier. Next to Sherlock, Castiel was absently sucking on a strawberry. He laughed quietly as Sherlock put an ice cube down his brother's cloak and was vaguely aware of Hermione talking to Percy.

'I do hope they start straight away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course it's supposed to be very difficult-'

'You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing.'

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

It happened suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrel's turban straight into Harry's eyes- and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

'Ouch!' Harry clapped a hand to his head.

'What is it?' asked Percy.

'N-nothing.'

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come, although John looked at him strangely. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look- a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

'Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?' he asked Percy.

'Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to- everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.'

Harry watched Snape for a while but he didn't look at him again.

At last, the puddings too disappeared and Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent again.

'Ahem- just a few more words now we are all fed and watered! I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

'First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.'

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

'I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

'Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing should contact Madam Hooch.

'And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.'

Harry and Sherlock laughed, but they were some of the few who did.

'He's not serious?' he muttered to Percy.

'Must be,' said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. 'It's odd, because he usually gives a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere- the forest's full of dangerous creatures, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us Prefects at least.'

'And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!' cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teacher's smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a large golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted snake-like into words.

'Everyone pick their favourite tune,' said Dumbledore. Sherlock looked as if he'd rather eat dirt than sing and Castiel looked extremely confused, 'and off we go!'

And the school bellowed:

'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach me 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 full 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.'

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march while a second-year was unsuccessfully stifling giggles beside them. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they were finished, he was one of those that clapped the loudest.

'Ah, music,' he said, wiping his eyes. 'A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!'

The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy through the crowds, while the Ravenclaws trailed after Mycroft. They pushed their way out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. Around half way there the Ravenclaws broke off and disappeared behind a giant painting of a silver swan, which blinked as Mycroft shoved it open. He was too tired even to be surprised that the people in the portraits whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, although John didn't seem to be as sleepy as everyone else and stared open mouthed most of the way there. They walked through a corridor full of suits of armour that rattled and giggled as they passed.

'Don't worry, it's just Peeves, although do try to watch out for him. Poltergeists can cause a few nasty accidents,' said Percy. 'The Bloody Baron's the only one that can control him, he won't even listen to us Prefects. Here we are.'

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

'Password?' she said.

'Caput Draconis,' said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through- Neville needed a leg up- and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cosy room full of squashy armchairs. John wondered what the Ravenclaw common room was like and made a note to ask Sherlock or Castiel when he saw them next.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase they found their beds at last: six four-poster hung with deep-red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed.

'Great food, isn't it?' Ron muttered through the hangings. 'Get off Scabbers! He's chewing the sheets.'

'Careful Ron. If you let him eat too much he'll get as big as a person,' John mumbled.

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept telling him to transfer to Slytherin immediately, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to take it off but it tightened painfully- and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it- then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, whose laugh became high and cold- there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, shaking and sweating. He rolled over and heard John snuffle lightly before he fell asleep again, and when he woke the next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

Thanks to mightyBookworm for the review :)