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 looking face and Corey’s first thought was it was someone not to cross and Corey had to wait to see if it was someone to trust.
‘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 fitted 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. Corey could painfully hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right that made him want to cover his ears - 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 too close for Corey’s comfort.
‘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 trimphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose 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 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. Corey 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.
Corey put his hand in his pocket to Rex, who still seemed to be sleeping. It calmed his nerves a tiny bit. Corey wondered how they would sort them into houses. Corey couldn’t seem to imagine anything, but he hoped it wasn’t like those writing tests or something, because whatever they had to do, they had to do it infront of the whole school.
No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about what seemed to be all the spells she’d learnt and wondering which one she’d need. Corey had 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 them all to something he couldn’t imagine what could be, which almost made him scared(?). Then something happened that made him flinch and take a step back - 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 each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing or something. What seemed to be a monk maybe(?) 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 seemed to notice the first-years. Nobody answered. ‘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 the sharp voice of McGonagall who had returned. ‘The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.’ 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 and were about to disintegrate, Corey got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron, unfortunately, behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Corey had never even 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. 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 flikering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Corey 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.’ It was weird to think that there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open up to the weather and sky outside.
Corey 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. Just the hat being here confused him of what they were supposed to do.
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 Gryffindor apart, You might belong Hufflepuff, Where they are just as 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 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 sudden applause as the hat finished its song, which the noise of made Corey cover his ears. The hat bowed to each of the four tables and then became quiet again. Corey didn’t especially like the sound of what the hat said about it getting a look in their heads.
Was it going to read their minds? Corey didn’t feel safe with that. Was that legal? Is that just how the wizarding world was? And Corey supposed it was better than trying spells he didn’t know how to do, but h ewould rather if it wasn’t infront of all these people.
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-faces 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. Corey saw the ghost of the 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; Corey could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling. Corey didn’t know if he could even be friends with them, because he didn’t wanna be friends with Ron.
‘Bulstrode, Millicent’ then became a Slytherin. He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during sports lessons 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 like him.
‘Finch-Fletchley, Justin!’ ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ Sometimes, Corey 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 Corey 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. Corey glared at Ron.
Then a horrible thought struck Corey, as horrible thoughts always do when you’re very nervous. What if he wasn’t chosen at all? Corey supposed the hat chose which house you got in by ones morals and which traits one would put most important.
But what does Corey find most important? Knowledge? He liked knowing stuff. Survival? No, he wasn’t sure he liked that one. Bravery? Eh, he didn’t know. 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 had a 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’ who got into Ravenclaw.
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 Lily’ who got in Hufflepuff.
‘Nott Theodore’ who got in Slytherin.
‘Parkinson Pansy’ who got in Slytherin also.
Then a pair of twin girls, ‘Patil Devi’ and ‘Padma Patil’ which Devi got into Ravenclaw and Padma got into Gryffindor.
Then ‘Perks, Sally-Anne’ who got into Slytherin… and then, at last -
‘Potter, Corey!’ As Corey stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
‘Potter, did she say?’
‘The Corey Potter?’ The last thing Corey saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the Hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat, which was less overwhelming atleast.
He waited. ‘Hmm,’ said a small voice in his ear. ‘Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting… So where shall I put you?’
Corey gripped the edges of the stool and the first thought that crossed his mind was, ‘I just want to belong.’ ‘
You want to belong, eh?’ said the small voice. ‘Well, then - better be SLYTHERIN!’ Corey heard the hat shout the last word to the whole Hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily towards Slytherin table.
The Hall was silent. Corey didn’t know what the deal was, but people hadn’t reacted like this to the other Slytherins. But after some seconds the Slytherin table erupted into almost disbelieving(?) clapping and cheering, they were specifically cheering ‘We got Potter!’.
Corey sat down opposite the girl, he was pretty sure was named Sally-Anne. He could feel everybody staring at him in maybe shock or something, even the teachers seemed shocked.
He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid (eugh), who caught his eye and looked at him with some kind of negative emotion he couldn’t decipher.
At least he didn’t think they were friends anymore. Corey didn’t care if Hagrid didn’t like him anymore, because of his prejudice. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Corey recognised him at once from the card he’d got out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole Hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.
Corey spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. And now there were only three people left to be sorted.
‘Turpin, Lisa’ became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by now.
Corey crossed his fingers he didn’t come into Slytherin under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ Corey was relieved.
Corey knew it was mean, but was it really if Ron would rather be in anything other than Slytherin?
The next was ‘Zabini, Blaise’ was made a Slytherin. He walked over and sat next to Corey. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Corey looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realised how hungry he was.
The Chocolate Frogs and other types of candy seemed ages ago. Albus Dumbledore had got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, but there seemed to be something he was maybe worried about?
‘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. Corey didn’t know whether to laugh or not. ‘Is he crazy?’ he asked one of the older students, who he couldn’t seem to read their expression. Well, not that he was good at it normally, but whatever.
‘Extremely crazy, mad and whatever word you could think of with the same meaning,’ the older student said with a seeming distaste for the headmaster.
Corey’s eyes widened a fraction when he saw that, the dishes in front of him were now piled with food.
He had never seem so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs.
The Dursleys had never exactly starved Corey - they were horrible, but they didn’t because that would be child abuse and that’s illegal and if it’s illegal people would have done something - but Corey he’d never been allowed to eat as much as he liked.
Dudley had always taken anything that Corey really wanted, even if it made him sick. Corey piled his plate with a bit of everything except the humbugs and began to eat. It was all delicious.
Corey could see a little down the table that right next to Malfoy, a ghost with a blank stare, gaunt face and robes stained with silver blood(?). Malfoy didn’t look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
‘Do you know who that ghost over there is?’ Corey asked the boy next to him, Blaise.
‘That’s the Bloody Baron I’m pretty sure,’ he answered matter of factly.
‘He sure does fit the name, do you know how he got covered in blood?’ Corey asked interested, Blaise didn’t seem to be treating him any differently, which Corey appreciated very much.
‘No, I don’t think anybody does.’ Corey was about to ask if anybody had asked the Baron when-
‘Why did you come to Slytherin anyway Potter? I thought you didn’t like Slytherins.’
It was Malfoy for fuck’s sake couldn’t he just leave him alone? ‘I never fucking said that you racist dickhead.’ Corey said annoyed by Malfoy’s presence.
Malfoy didn’t seem to know what the swears meant just that they were, in fact, swears. But some people were suppressing laughs, Corey supposed they were what people called either half-bloods or muggle-born.
Corey didn’t especially like how that separated people from just being known as people. 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 of ice-cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding… As Corey helped himself to some stracciatella ice-cream, the talk turned to people families.
Malfoy was bragging about being rich and pureblood or whatever blah-blah-blah. Corey didn’t really pay attention, like at all. The ice-cream sure was good though. He was starting to feel he’d eaten too much, like, hours ago, he lookedup at the High Table again.
Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet, whatever, don’t care. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore, the crazy guy, who Corey was pretty sure wasn’t someone to trust, he was probably like his other headmaster who didn’t care about the kids at all.
Or maybe not, Corey would have to see. Professor Quirrell, in his unique choice of a turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and white skin. It happened very suddenly. The black-haired teacher looked past Quirrell’s turban straight into Corey’s eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Corey’s forehead.
Corey heard himself hiss ‘Fuck!’ as he clapped his hand on his scar in pain.
‘What was that?’ asked Blaise, looking startled which didn’t look natural on him.
‘I have a headache? I don’t know what you mean?’ Blaise seemed to be the only one who heard Corey.
‘You spoke parsel-toungue, I heard you.’ Blaise whispered, now Corey couldn’t see the startled expression anymore, replaced with an expression he couldn’t read, like normal.
‘Oh, that’s what it’s called, right, that’s like rare or something.’ Corey said, uncaring.
‘Not just rare, it’s heavily stigmatized against. I mean it’s what You-Know-Who is known for, didn’t you know?’
Blaise seemed to have returned to his normal expression, but was still whispering.
‘Hm, then how can people be sure it even is that rare if people never speak up about having the ability to speak parsel-toungue? Well, anyway, does it even matter?’ Blaise seemed to be confused in some sense - negatively? Positively? Who knows! Not Corey. - about something Corey said since Corey heard him mutter;
‘Does it even matter?’ In disbelief.
‘Well, moving on, do you know who the teacher talking to Professor Quirrell is? The guy with the black hair?’
‘Yeah, I heard from the older students, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, he is also our house, Slytherins, head of house.’ Blaise informed him.
‘Hmm.’ Was all Corey responded, going back to his dessert. At last, the puddings too disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent.
‘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 in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do 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 all 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 for their house teams 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 very painful death.’
‘Is he serious?’ Corey muttered to Blaise.
‘I guess so, everyone else is taking it serious.’
‘And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!’ cried Dumbledore. Corey noticed that, though the other teachers were still smiling, they did seem kinda forced now.
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself snake-like into words.
‘Everyone pick their favourite tune,’ said Dumbledore, ‘and off we go!’ And the school bellowed:
‘Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Out 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 diffrent times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to avery slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.
‘Ah, music,’ he said, wiping his eyes. ‘A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!’
The Slytherin first-years followed the Slytherin prefect - who Corey didn’t know the name of - through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and down towards the Dungeons.
Corey’s legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too tired to even be surprised that the people in the portaits along the corridors whispered and ompointed as they passed. Corey was just starting to think about when they were done walking when they came to a halt.
Corey couldn’t see anything special, it just looked like a bare stretched wall. But then the prefect said, what Corey assumed was a password for the door that apparently was there:
‘Draught of Death’ and the wall opened up. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Slytherin common room, a cosy, long, low underground room full of a greenish light with carved chairs.
The Prefect directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the bottom of a spiral staircase - they seemed to be maybe under the lake(?) - they found their beds at last: six four-posters hung with sadolin-green velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up.
Corey - too tired to talk to anyone - ignored anyone who came near him. Just pulled their pyjamas on and went into their bed and closed his curtains.
He pulled out Rex, who was awake now, after he had put him in his pajama pocket. Corey had no idea how long he had been awake.
‘Hello, Corey.’ Rex hissed happily.
‘Hello, I think i made a friend today his name is Blaise Zabini and he’s like super cool. He also knows about me being able to talk to snakes and he was also chill anout that. So I’m pretty sure we’re friends now.’ Corey said excited.
‘That’s great!’ Rex wrapped around Corey’s arm almost like a hug.
‘Good night, I’m going to sleep now, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’ Corey said tiredly.
‘Good night.’ Rex hissed while wrapping more around his arm, while Corey pulled his blanket over it to hide it. Perhaps Corey had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream.
He was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must he’s conected to Voldemort, since aren’t they the same so far? Corey told the turban no they weren’t Corey wasn’t evil he was just different, which wasn’t bad, right? The turban gotheavier and heavier; he tried to pullit off but it tightened painfully - and there was Dudley, laughing at him as he struggled with it - then Dudley turned to Aunt Petunia, whose laugh was high and cold - there was a burst of green light and Corey woke, sweating and shaking.
He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn’t remember the dream at all.