The Sorting Hat
“Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where I might find platform 9 ¾ please?” I ask an attendant after I had pushed my trolley along and hurried to where I thought I could find the platform. There were platforms 9 and 10 but I couldn’t see 9 ¾ anywhere.
“9 ¾? Think you’re being funny, do ya?” The attendant dismisses immediately, turning and walking away, muttering to himself about it.
“It’s the same every year, packed with muggles, of course. –Come on. Platform 9 ¾ this way.” I overhear a woman say with her children across the platform.
“Muggles?” I mumble to myself, remembering the word from Hagrid. They must be going to Hogwarts too I assumed. The children all had similar looking luggage, they must be, so I followed them. The fiery red-haired family all stopped before one of the large arched brick walls between the platforms.
“Alright, Percy, you first.” The woman encourages as she holds the youngest’s hand at her side, her only daughter by the looks of things. The four other children were all boys and of various ages. The oldest looking of them all, Percy clearly, pushed his trolley and lined up directed at the brick wall before calmly hurrying at it. By my utter surprise, he suddenly disappears through the wall, trolley and all. My mouth opens a little, and I look around to see if anyone noticed or saw. No one appeared to see, or care perhaps; everyone was minding their own business. The woman looked back to her remaining boys.
“Okay, Fred, you next.” She calls with a direct smile at one of the twins, who were quite literally wearing the same clothes and did by all means look exactly alike.
“He’s not Fred, I am.” One of the boys exclaims, pointing to the other.
“Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?” The other pokes.
“Oh, I’m sorry, George.” She apologies as she gestures for him to come over, and he does so, lining up like Percy had.
“I’m only joking. I am Fred.” He jokes, with a smirk at his mother before quickly running at the brick wall and disappearing. Their mother makes an amused and annoyed face at him as George then quickly follows after him. There was only one boy left with a trolley to go through and I figured I better speak up before she hurried off back home once he had.
“Excuse me.” I call out as I push my trolley closer towards them. The red-haired woman instantly had a warm, welcoming smile and as I came to stand next to her last remaining son, she stood next to me and held her hand at the back of my shoulder. I felt a little shy to begin with, which she must have sensed. “Could –could you tell me how to—?” I begin.
“How to get onto the platform?” The kind woman finishes for me. I nod with a relieved smile. “Not to worry, dear. It’s Ron’s first time to Hogwarts as well.” She continues and I look to my left at the boy next to me, who was now smiling kindly at me. I smiled back, he seemed nice. “All you’ve got to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous.” She explains encouragingly.
“Good luck.” The young girl, maybe only by a year from me, says smiling too. Again, I smile back and nod my thanks and understanding as I walk and line myself up like the others had. Taking a deep breath as I looked at the brick wall, I then began to run with my trolley and as I came close, I shut my eyes in anticipation. When I opened them, I was in another place entirely. The platform, although looked like the London station, was different style, even the air smelled different. There was only one platform, and it was indeed 9 ¾ and there was only one train, a steam train, which was named Hogwarts Express. I was definitely in the right place. It was thrilling, because all the things Hagrid had been talking about were slowly coming to materialise.
On the train, I searched along for an empty cabin. I didn’t know anyone yet and everyone seemed to know each other already or had at least made friends already. It felt odd to just ask to sit amongst people already chatting and laughing, so I opted to sit by myself. I had been admiring the view as the steam train chugged away, the beautiful countryside and water around as we travelled. I’d never seen anything like it. I was happy by myself; I always had been. I had learned to enjoy my own company, but when a voice intruded at the door not long after we had left the station, I was happy to welcome it.
“Excuse me, do you mind? Everywhere else is full.” The voice asked, turning my attention away from the window. It was the same boy from the station, the boy with all the brothers and the kind mother.
“Not at all.” I encourage with a smile and he mirrors it before entering and taking a seat opposite me by the window.
“I’m Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley.” He introduces, still smiling brightly.
“I’m Y/N. Y/N Potter.” I greet back, and immediately his expression changes to one of stun.
“So—so, it’s true. I mean—do you really have the—?” Ron glamours, still a little stunned as he vaguely points around his head. I supposed even amongst the students I was known. How odd it was.
“The what?” I ask.
“The scar?” He quietly clarifies.
Once I knew what he was merely curious about, I almost smirked to myself and moved the fall of my hairline to the side, uncovering the scar to show Ron. He smiles as he stares curiously at it. “Wicked.” He says, making me chuckle lightly through my own smile. I liked him, he was innocently kind and amusing. He seemed a kind and humble boy, and his mother was a nice woman, you could tell she was a caring a loving mother. I thought he might be a nice friend to have, uncomplicated and fun.
“Anything off the trolley, dears?” A woman then rattles at the door with her creaky trolley full of sweets and chocolates and all things nice.
“No, thanks. I’m all set.” Ron deflatingly replies as he holds his wrapped, crumpled sandwich he fishes out his pocket. It didn’t look the most appetising and I could tell he thought the same, but he still kindly smiled his thanks at the trolley lady.
“We’ll take the lot.” I state happily as I then fish out my leftover money from Gringotts. Ron’s face lit up instantly at the thought and then at the sight of the handful of coins in my hand.
“Woah.” He says in awe, making me smile again.
When I said we’d take the lot, I didn’t realise how much that actually was. Our seat was covered in treats and Ron was clearly in his element sat with me as he stuffed his face, but he was happy and I was happy because of it. I liked him. Although, I was excited myself at the idea of all the treats; I never got any myself back with the Dursley’s. it was why I was inclined to buy the lot in the first place.
“Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans?” I repeat. I had also not expected the treats to be so strange. I had thought they would be the normal sort of things you’d get on a trolley but then what exactly was normal about any of this. I was learning to go with it and expect it.
“They mean every flavour. There’s chocolate and peppermint and there’s also—spinach, liver and tripe.” Ron elaborates as I begin to eat one, whilst he chomped down on his own snack. “George swears he got a bogey-flavoured one once.” Ron adds as the taste of the bean I was eating begins to turn nasty and at hearing what Ron had just said, I immediately take the bean from my mouth and wrap it in a tissue.
A little box then catches my eye. I had seen the word chocolate on it, but at closer inspection it read ‘chocolate frog’. “These aren’t real frogs, are they?” I ask before opening the box.
“It’s just a spell. Besides, it’s the cards you want. Each pack’s got a famous witch or wizard. I’ve got about 500 meself.” Ron informs as I open it. The chocolate frog ribbits before it quickly and suddenly leaps onto the window. “Watch it!” Ron exclaims through his full mouthful, but the frog then leaps out the open hatch on the window. “Oh, that’s rotten luck. They’ve only got one good jump in them to begin with.” He relents. I shrug it off, not particularly bothered, and turn my attention to who I got on the card.
“I’ve got Dumbledore!” I smile, looking at his face in the window of the card.
“I got about six of him.” Ron smiles back as I look up at his triumphant expression, but when I look back down, Dumbledore’s face was gone.
“Hey, he’s gone.” I announce.
“Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day, can you?” Ron says as if it was obvious he would disappear whilst I read the back of the card, having flipped it over.
“This is Scabbers, by the way. Pathetic, isn’t he?” Ron points out, drawing attention to his rat that was eating the snacks along with us out of a little box.
“Just a little.” I relent.
“Fred gave me a spell as to turn him yellow. Want to see?” Ron asks.
“Yeah.” I gleam. I hadn’t seen anyone do magic with a wand yet.
Ron takes out his wand and clears his throat. Then just as he was about to cast his spell, a girl appears at the door, already dressed in her robes unlike us, and quickly looks about our cabin. Both of us look at her curiously.
“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.” She announces.
“No.” Ron shakes his head.
“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see then.” She almost challenges as she catches sight of his wand.
Ron clears his throat again. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid fat rat yellow.” He casts with a flick of his wand. A tiny little light seeps through the cracks of the box and shoots it off the rat, but it doesn’t turn yellow. It seemed to me that perhaps his brother was playing a joke on him, so I try to hide my smile.
Ron shrugs as he looks at me, and I shrug back. “Are you sure that’s a real spell?” the girl points out, clearly not thinking to spare him the embarrassment. “Well, it’s not very good, is it?” she adds with a smirk. Having turned back to her, he then looks back to me and his eyes widen in annoyance. “Of course, I’ve only tried a few simple ones myself, but they’ve all worked for me.” She states, before entering our cabin and sitting opposite me as she took her own wand out.
“For example—now, I don’t mean to be rude, but you two seem like the type to potentially break something. Have either of you broken anything yet?” She asks.
Ron looks to me and shrugs, looking still a little annoyed by the girl, and I was about to say no when I remembered that Dudley had actually broken my quill. He’d of course done it in spite, laughing at my things and the fact I was to go to this wizard school. I had kept it as I knew I wouldn’t be able to get another until I probably came to Hogwarts. “Actually, now you mention it, I do have a broken quill.” I relay. I grieved me to admit it a little, that she had made this assumption of us both, but it seemed easier to say I had broken it then go into why and who had actually broken it.
“Great.” She smiles as I search for my broken quill in my bag and Ron resumes eating his snacks, clearly not interested in the girl.
I hold the two broken pieces in my hand before her and she points her wand directly at them. “Reparo.” She simply speaks as she flicks her wand and suddenly the quill fixes itself from her spell. I look at it in awe and glance at Ron who looked equally surprised.
“Try not to break it again.” She smiles, proud of herself and of her little poke.
“Erh, thanks.” I reply as I put my quill carefully back in my bag. As I do, strands of my hair fall across my face and like I usually would do, I pushed them back behind my ear, inadvertently revealing my scar to the girl.
“Holy cricket, you’re Y/N Potter! I’m Hermione Granger. And you are?” She exclaims and greets. Her mind seemed to work at double speed. She was quite intense, quite a lot to take in at first. She seemed perhaps to lack some likable social skills, but I could tell she was a nice girl; she was clearly smart and although quite forward and blunt, seemed nice.
“I’m Ron Weasley.” Ron responds with a mouthful.
“Pleasure.” Hermione simply says, not entirely impressed by his lack of decorum. “You two better change into your robes. I expect we’ll be arriving soon.” She announces, before promptly standing from her seat and exiting the cabin as swiftly as she had entered it. It was an odd encounter.
Having changed into our robes, pulling the blinds down and taking it in turns to change in the cabin, when we arrived at the station named Hogsmeade, I felt ready to settle in. coming off the train, we were all met by Hagrid, who I heard before I saw calling for all the first years, although it wasn’t long that I did spot him with his height and all. He was directing the first years towards him as he held a lamp and I saw the surprised faces on many of them at the sheer size of him. Walking with Ron, I made my way over to him.
“Hello Y/N.” Hagrid greets.
“Hi Hagrid.” I reply with a big smile.
“Woah.” Ron says as he looks Hagrid up and down.
“Right, then. This way to the boats. Come on now, follow me.” he beckons walking the platform with us all firmly in tow.
The boats he mentioned were small rowing boats, but of course, there was no need to row as they moved entirely themselves across the water towards the immense castle that was Hogwarts, beautifully lit as it sat on the cliffs edge over the vast lake that surrounded us. Both Ron and I were in awe, much like all the rest. We were like that the whole way, it only intensified once we were inside. All of us first years climbed the stone stairwells until we were met with a older woman at the top waiting. She quite literally looked like a witch, and I wondered if all the adults here dressed in the typical or perhaps stereotypical manner of a witch or wizard.
“Welcome to Hogwarts. –Now, in a few moments, you’ll pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Now, while you’re here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule-breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup.” The woman explains.
“Trevor!” A boy calls from behind us and squeezes through to grab his toad that was perched at the top of the steps. That must have been the boy Neville Hermione mentioned on the train that had lost his toad. At least he had found it, but the woman did not seem entirely impressed at being interrupted.
Ron and I smile as several others laugh. Neville steps back with his toad in hand and looks apologetically up at the woman. “Sorry.”
“The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily. Now, wait here, if you please.” She adds before turning and marching away towards the doors.
-
He was sure he had noticed a peculiar scar on the forehead of a dark-haired girl in front of all the first years whilst the professor welcomed them all. He was utterly curious about her. She was the one he had heard so much about from his father. The girl who lived. The girl who had so many theories surrounding her about how she had survived what should have been a lethal attack, and one of the most persistent, the one that his father was inclined to believe, was that she was a great dark witch. He had said the fact she had been removed from the wizarding community seemed to support this idea. His father was adamant that one day another time would come for the rise of a dark leader and their family would be in for a second chance of power, should this Potter girl prove to be another, and greater, pure-blood champion. He had been raised in an atmosphere of regret that the Dark Lord had not succeeded in taking command of the wizarding community, although he was prudently reminded that such thoughts were not to be expressed outside the small circle of the family and their close friends. And now, there she was, standing right there. She appeared much like the rest of them, nothing exceptionally special about her, except perhaps her scar. She was pretty, he supposed, in a completely normal way. He just found himself very intrigued by her seeing as his father and his friends had these hopes of a new Dark Leader and it was to be this girl he saw before him. Although curious, he found himself slightly envious too. This Potter girl was famous, and despite not seeking fame for himself, she was already the most talked about and admired person at school, and this irritated him in a minuscule sense as he had been equally brought up by his father to believe he was above everyone else, a pure blood, almost royalty within the wizarding community. This girl didn’t look like much, let alone the next powerful, dark leader. However, it is what his father and his friends believed could be true, and so, that was why he decided to introduce himself to this Potter girl. If he offered her hand and she took it, if they even became acquaintances, he had the hope of relaying some interesting news home to his father. That he, Draco Malfoy, had made friends with the famous Y/N Potter. That he had gained her favour, like his father had gained the Dark Lord’s.
“It’s true then, what they were saying on the train. Y/N Potter has come to Hogwarts.” Draco calls out in front of everyone, leaning coolly on the stairwell as everyone began to whisper and murmur between themselves at the mention of her name. She looked over, now looking directly at us, clearly unaware of who we were, but if she had been taken away from the wizarding community why would she? He could see her scar more clearly now, creeping out from behind her hairline.
“This is Crabbe, and Goyle.” Draco introduces, nodding his head in the direction of the two boys at his side. “And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” He greets as he takes steps over to stand before her, smirking. The red-haired boy standing at her side snorts as he relays his name and he snaps his attention to him.
“Think my name’s funny, do you? I’ve no need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley.” Draco pokes and looking back to Potter he could see that what he had said to the boy had perhaps annoyed her if he was reading her slight change of expression correct.
“You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. –I can help you there.” Draco insults and with the offer, offers his hand to her. He’d done it, now all she had to do was take it. He watched her look down at it before looking back up at him. Then, looking directly into his eyes, with a sternness and confidence, she defies him.
“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” Potter rejects politely.
The feeling of rejection angers him. He’d offered his hand and she had point blank refused it. If she had perhaps been anybody else, he may have respected her confidence. No one else had ever stood up to him, nor defied him. But she was meant to become a powerful dark witch. She was not like him or his friends. She had even clearly befriended the likes of a Weasley which was ridiculous. He quickly realised that the hopes of his father and his friends that she was to be a powerful, dark witch, the next Voldemort, were completely unfounded; that was the true ridiculous notion. This girl would never be one of them, he would not allow her to be in his inner circle and from now on, he would aim to make her life a misery as much as he could in retaliation for the humiliation of her refusal of him in front of all the first years.
-
We stared each other down for a moment in defiance of one another. He had carried himself as a cruel bully. The platinum blonde boy had called me out in front of everyone and proceeded to carry himself as if to exert that he was above and better than everyone else here already. I was never really able to stand up to Dudley back home, and so I felt I had the need to do so now. I would succumb to a bully no longer, and I made a mental note that should I see this Draco Malfoy terrorising anyone else I’d stand up to him again. If he had been kinder and not insulted my first friend so viciously, perhaps I would have taken his hand. For now, we stared resentfully at each other, until Draco received a tap on the shoulder from the woman before. He slid back to his friends, all the while staring me out. I hoped in that moment I wasn’t placed in his house.
“We’re ready for you now. Follow me.” The woman announces and leads us all into this huge, great hall. Four long tables lined the hall, all filled with students in their own black, house robes. Candles floated in the sky above us, fire pits hung at the sides, and a table at the front appeared to have all the professors sat along it. Walking down the hall, all eyes were on us, but my eyes were on the ceiling. It looked as if there was no roof.
“It’s not real, the ceiling. It’s just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in ‘Hogwarts: A History’.” I hear Hermione’s voice say behind us.
Coming to the front, on each of the four long tables were spaces for us to be seated according to which house we were sorted into I assumed and ahead was a curious hat perched on a stool. In my head, I was a little confused at what exactly the process would be.
“Alright, will you wait along here, please.” The woman, presumably a professor like the rest, instructs and we all pool at the front together. “Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.” She adds, to which she steps aside slightly as Dumbledore, in the impressive, centred chair amongst the professors, stands. He, like the woman, seemed to embody in my head what a wizard would look like as his card suggested, an older man in a robed garment with a long white beard, but the remaining professors looked more seemingly normal, albeit perhaps their clothing choices.
“I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce. First years, please note, that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that 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. Thank you.” Dumbledore announces before regaining his seat, and I feel almost underwhelmed. I had expected something a little more powerful or spewing wisdom from a wizard considered one of the most powerful and famous.
“When I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted into your houses.” The woman professor explains as she holds up the hat with one hand over the stool and holds a scroll in the other.
“Hermione Granger.”
“Oh, no. Okay, relax.” I hear her mumble to herself, readying herself as she begins to walk up to be sorted.
“Mental that one, I’m telling you.” Ron whispers to me, meaning he heard her too.
“She is a little odd. But I’d be nervous going first. Wouldn’t you?” I whisper back. Ron shrugs with a face of agreement now he thought of it, and our attention turns back to the sorting ceremony.
Suddenly, as the hat is placed on Hermione’s head, it comes to life and begins to speak and move. “Ah, right then…hmm…right. Okay.” The hat thinks to itself as I look on continually in awe at this place and what they do, just one thing after the other. “Gryffindor!” the hat then shouts and so does everyone on one table, erupting into cheers and applause. Hermione hops off the stool with a smile and a skip in her step as she takes her seat with her housemates.
“Draco Malfoy.”
While the hat had mmmed and ahhhed, thinking about where to put Hermione, the hat had merely hovered over Draco’s head when reaching it instant conclusion. “Slytherin!”
“There isn’t a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.” Ron points out between us, and seeing as Draco was sorted into Slytherin, I already didn’t want to be in that one, regardless of its reputation or not.
As students were continually sorted amongst the houses, we clapped and watched and listened, but at some point during the ceremony I caught one of the professors staring me down. He sat at the corner of the table, dressed all in black, his hair matching, his eyes dark and I felt a little intimidated. He looked as if he had been talking to Professor Quirrell next to him, until he had turned away from the table and appeared to be sorting the front of his turban out and caught glimpse of me. He didn’t stare warmly, it looked as if he stared with coldness perhaps, like he knew me unlike everyone else. It unsettled me for a moment as he looked straight into my eyes, a sharp, hot pain shot across my forehead, right where my scar was. My hand shot right to it in response, rubbing it as I continued to look at the professor staring at me. The noise I had made because of the pain had caught Ron’s attention, asking if I was okay, to which I dismissed, saying I was fine as I was unsure as to why exactly it was hurting in the first place; it never had before. Finally, as I dropped my hand from my forehead, ceasing to rub my forehead, the professor finally broke his stare and looked away. It was curious.
“Ronald Weasley.”
“Ha! Another Weasley! I know just what to do with you. –Gryffindor!”
Ron sighed his relief at the house and I looked back to see his brothers had stood as they applauded. I smiled for him.
“Y/N Potter.”
Again, more muttering and whispering ensued and so I begrudgingly walked up to the sorting hat as Ron took his seat at Gryffindor’s table with his siblings, Hermione and a few others.
“Hmm…difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh, yes. And a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?” The hat thinks aloud.
“Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.” I whisper quietly to myself.
“Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It’s all here, in your head. And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.” The hat argues.
“No, please. Anything but Slytherin. Anything but Slytherin.” I whisper in panic.
“No? Well, if you’re sure. Better be…Gryffindor!” It finishes with a shout, and like everyone else my house erupts into applause and cheer, and my smile couldn’t be bigger. I was ecstatic to be in Gryffindor; I was with Ron and wasn’t with Malfoy in Slytherin. As I come to sit with Ron at the table, we hug and I shake the hand of others around, mostly his brothers but some others as well. As I take my seat, I look back up to the front to watch the rest of the ceremony but catch eye contact with Dumbledore, who then raises his chalice up at me. I smile in response, unsure what else to do.
“Your attention, please.” The woman professor calls as she clinks her glass now sat at the table after each student had been sorted. As we all quieten, Dumbledore stands once again.
“Let the feast begin.” He announces and suddenly all tables are lined with food. Food I’ve never even dreamed of having, never been allowed to have, it was completely overwhelming in the best way. Everyone tucked in, and Ron was completely in his element.
“Percy, who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” I ask during the feast while he was sat next to me.
“Oh, that’s Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house.” He answers.
“Potions. But everyone knows it’s the dark arts he fancies. He’s been after Quirrell’s job for years.” Percy states.
Ron then suddenly exclaims a little in shock. “Hello! How are you? Welcome to Gryffindor.” An actual ghost asks as his head appeared through the plate of chicken drumsticks. Us first years seemed all surprised, whereas the rest seemed perfectly fine. Then more ghosts started to appear around the hall, floating around at their own will, chatting with students.
“Hello, Sir Nicholas. Have a nice summer?” Percy asks calmly.
“Dismal. Once again, my request to join the headless hunt has been denied.” He answers before beginning to float away
“I know you. You’re Nearly Headless Nick.” Ron bursts.
“I prefer Sir Nicholas, if you don’t mind.” He corrects.
“Nearly headless? How can you be nearly headless?” Hermione queries.
“Like this.” He says before pulling his head to the side to show how his head was merely connected by only a few measly strands of skin. Hermione and I grimace at the sight while Ron exclaims a small scream as he does it right next to him; I couldn’t help but laugh a little.
After the feast we were led by our prefects, in our case Percy, to our dormitories. We had to journey up the most mesmerising staircases I’d ever seen, and not only that, but they also moved! The walls were covered in moving paintings, like they were alive but contained to the flat format of all the frames. Once we had climbed the moving staircases, we were led by a marching Percy towards our dormitory. All seemed quite separate to each other, and I figured it was because of the passwords; as when we arrived the woman in the painting asked for one. Percy replied ‘Caput Draconis’. Apparently, the password changed termly. At the sound of the password being said, she allowed us entry and the large painting opened as a door, leading to our dormitory and common room. It was large but still filled with chairs, and sofas and large fireplace. It was warm and cosy.
“Boys’ dormitory is upstairs and down to your left. Girls, the same on your right. You’ll find all your belongings have already been brought up.” Percy informs.
Everyone quickly unpacked and settled in, finding their assigned beds. Hermione was next to mine, which I was happy with. She had seemed a little odd, perhaps a bit much at first, but I liked her. We had all socialised together in the common room before heading to bed, but I couldn’t sleep much. Not for any bad reason, but I was simply so happy, my mind wasn’t ready to switch off yet and so I sat in the window with Hedwig perched next to me out her cage. She was already so attached, she didn’t leave my side out her cage, she sat happily and relaxed right next to me, even with the window open. I stroked her gently as I glanced out the window at the glistening moonlit lake and forests that surrounded Hogwarts. It was beautiful, and I couldn’t have been fuller of joy to be here. I didn’t want to be anywhere else, and it had only just begun.