Ch 7. 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. The entrance hall was so big you could have

fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit

with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too

high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to

the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry

could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right

-the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall

showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They

crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have

done, peering about 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 house 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 called 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 your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose

house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is

awarded the house cup, a great honor. 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

rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened

under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to

flatten his 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 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? But he didn't know any magic yet -- what on earth would he have

to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived.

He 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. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more

nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to

the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. He

kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall

would come back and lead him to his doom.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air --

several people behind him screamed.

"What the --?"

He gasped. So did the people around him.

About twenty ghosts had just

streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent,

they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing

at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. 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!" 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."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line

behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out

of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors

into the Great Hall.

Harry 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.

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. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry

looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He

heard

Hermione whisper, "Its 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.

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 and frayed and

extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly,

that seemed the sort of thing -- noticing that everyone in the hall was

now 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 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 Hufflepuffis 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 quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll

kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."Harry. smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better thanhaving to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on

without everyone watching. The hat seemedto be asking rather alot;

Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house of 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 put on the hat and sit on the stool 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 moments 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!"

"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 new 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 like an unpleasant lot. He was starting to feel definitely sick

now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school.

He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but

because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at

others it took a little while to decide. "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 there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor

McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a

mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

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 head 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-Anne" and

then, at last -- "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little

hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

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