Hi everyone!

Sorry for the delay! RL problems and one crucial rewrite (anyone want to guess which scene I rewrote?) meant I couldn't post til now. The next chapter will be up sooner, I promise!

And again, this will be the last chapter that will heavily feature lines from the books - so bear with me!

Please don't forget to review!

Chapter Six

The door swung open revealing a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes. Harry knew immediately that she was Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress. She had a very stern face, and from all he'd read and heard, Harry knew she was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the huge man.

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

The entrance hall of Hogwarts was huge, even bigger than the one at the Manor. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, and though Harry preferred the more elegant sources of lighting like the chandeliers at home, as the ceiling of the hall was too high to make out, Harry supposed they didn't have many options.

They followed the Deputy Headmistress across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – clearly the rest of the school was already here – but McGonagall showed the first years into a small empty chamber off the hall. Most of the first years stood rather closer together than they would usually have done, and peered about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall said. "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 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 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 Weasley's smudged nose and haphazardly worn robe, before lighting upon Harry and the phoenix still perched on his shoulder. "I understand that your phoenix was allowed into Hogwarts in lieu of another pet, Mr Potter-Black, but your phoenix cannot follow you into the Great Hall during the Sorting."

"I know, ma'am, but no matter how much I try, Credo refuses to leave me."

McGonagall pursed her lips, though Harry didn't think it was in anger. "Perhaps you could let your phoenix know there's another of its kind present at Hogwarts, in the Headmaster's office. I'm sure Fawkes will be glad to meet Credo."

"What do you think, Credo? Want to go meet Fawkes?"

Credo stared at Harry for a moment before glancing at the Deputy Headmistress. Clearly what he'd seen had satisfied him, for he trilled out an agreement before disappearing in a flash of flames.

Amidst the excited and awed chattering, Professor McGonagall said, "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" the sandy-haired boy – Finnigan, Harry thought was his name – asked the boy beside him once the chatter trailed off. Weasley, who was standing nearby, butted in with a rather unhelpful answer.

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

Harry snorted – surely no one will believe that nonsense! But when he looked around, everyone looked terrified. No one was talking much except the annoying bushy-haired Muggle-born girl who was standing by herself in a corner, whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which she'd need.

"What idiots!" Draco said rather loudly, before turning to face Harry. "Really, a tes-"

Several people behind them screamed, causing Draco to jump about a foot in the air.

"What the-?"

Neville gasped. 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. The fat monk – Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff ghost, Harry knew – 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.

"We're the first years, Sir Nicholas."

The ghost looked taken aback at being addressed by name by a first year, and Harry could feel the surprised stares from the rest of the students.

"First years!" said the Fat Friar, smiling at Harry. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

"Yes, Fat Friar. The Deputy Headmistress will be returning for us soon," Harry hinted, feeling Neville trembling beside him.

"Yes, move along now," said the sharp voice of Professor McGonagall. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. McGonagall stared at Harry for a minute before telling them, "Now, form a line, and follow me."

They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. The Great Hall 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. The teachers sat at another long table at the back of the Hall. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. Truly, reading or hearing about it didn't do the Great Hall enough justice.

From where Harry was standing, 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 upwards at the ceiling that was bewitched to look like the sky outside. Seeing the velvety black sky dotted with stars, 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 briefly wondered if he could get the ceiling in his bedroom at the Manor bewitched as well. He made a mental note to speak to his grand-mère about it first thing.

Harry looked back down as McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool with a pointed wizard's hat on top in front of the first years. The hat was patched, frayed, and extremely dirty – Kreacher wouldn't have let it in the house.

"So that's the famed Sorting Hat," Harry murmured to Neville and Draco.

As they all stared at the Hat, 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 I 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 folks 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 Sorting 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!" Weasley said to Finnigan, who seemed very reluctant to be near the red-headed boy. "I'll kill Fred. He was going on about wrestling a troll."

Draco snorted. Neville turned green. Harry could practically hear the insecure thoughts running around Neville's head.

"Don't worry, Neville – like we've said, you're a Gryffindor, through and through."

Neville looked relieved at the reassurance, though he was still rather green, and they watched as McGonagall stepped forward holding a long scroll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the Hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"

Harry smiled at his blonde friend as she stumbled out of the line, blushing madly in embarrassment. Her pigtails bounced about her shoulders as she put on the Hat 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 clapped as well, and smiled seeing the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

Mandy went to Ravenclaw, and the table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Mandy as she joined them. Harry smiled and mouthed to her to save him a seat.

Lavender Brown – "a Mud-- Muggle-born," Draco whispered in his ear – was the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see the Weasley twins catcalling.

Millicent Bulstrode – a half-blood – became a Slytherin. Even though not all Slytherins were pure-bloods, Draco looked disgusted at the thought of sharing a house with Bulstrode. Of course, it could have been because Millicent looked worse than the annoying bushy-haired girl. With a square build and heavy jaw, she rather unpleasantly reminded Harry of a hag.

While the Hat mostly shouted out the House at once, sometimes, it took a little while to decide. Finnigan, for example, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the Hat declared him a Gryffindor. Draco vindictively speculated to Harry that the Hat had probably been debating on sending the boy home as he was too pathetic to belong to a House.

"Granger, Hermione!"

The bushy hair flew behind her as she almost ran to the stool and jammed the Hat eagerly on her head. Harry had to bite his lips to stifle his mocking laughter.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the Hat.

The entire Great Hall fell into stunned silence. Draco looked absolutely horrified. Harry's relief that she hadn't been Sorted into Ravenclaw – if she had been, Harry wasn't sure what he would have done – soon turned into incredulity. A Muggle-born in Slytherin? How-- but it just wasn't done! Half-bloods, certainly, and they were barely tolerated as it was! A Muggle-born in Slytherin – she wouldn't last a day!

Granger made her way across the Hall, her head held up proudly. She faltered, however, when empty seats were quickly taken up – she had to settle for the furthest corner, and even then, her Housemates gave her a wide berth. Her lips trembled, although tears didn't fall.

Clamour broke out across the Hall and did not cease, even when McGonagall pointedly cleared her throat. Her harsh glares eventually quietened the mutterings, although most of the students stared at Granger in horrified fascination rather than the Sorting.

When Neville's name was called, Harry whispered encouragements to him. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to have done much, as Neville 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".

Draco, of course, swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the Hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Winking at Harry, Draco went to join Vince and Greg – who were thankfully sitting as far away from Granger as possible – looking mightily pleased with himself.

Eventually… "Potter-Black, Harold!"

As Harry stepped forward confidently, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires over all the tables.

"Potter-Black, did she say?"

"The Harold Potter-Black?"

Harry hid his grimace at that. 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. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the Hat. He didn't have to wait long.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. An excellent mind, too. And quite loyal to those you call your friends. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"

"Ravenclaw, please."

"Ravenclaw?" The Hat sounded startled. "Certainly you enjoy learning and are intelligent enough for Rowena's House, but you would be much better suited in Slytherin. 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."

"I am also the Boy Who Lived – considering the fact that Voldemort isn't dead and that there are quite a number of his supporters' children in that House, it would be suicide for me if I were to go there. Not to mention the Head of Slytherin is a Death Eater – spy or not. Besides, I'm a Black – I will be great, no matter what House you sort me into."

The Hat was quiet for a minute. "Your bravery is tempered by an intelligent and cunning mind, and though you work hard, you guard your thoughts and heart too fiercely from others for Hufflepuff. Are you sure you don't wish to be a Slytherin?" The Hat sighed. "Well, if you're sure – better be RAVENCLAW!"

Harry heard the Hat shout the last word to the entire Hall. Silence reigned once more; Harry carefully took off the Hat and walked towards the Ravenclaw table with poise. Once the shock wore off – truly, everyone must have thought he'd be either a Gryffindor or a Slytherin – Harry was getting the loudest cheers yet – and from all the Houses. A select few did not cheer, and Harry noted those faces, but he soon became distracted by hugs from Mandy. After allowing what seemed like the entire table to shake his hand, Harry sat down beside Mandy and across from Morag MacDougal. He nodded at Draco, who shot him a grin in return. The Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost, patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

Harry could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat the huge man, Hagrid. And there, in the centre of the High Table in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole Hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. He was looking at Harry rather intensely; Harry saluted the Headmaster with his goblet, and watched as Dumbledore did the same. Harry inwardly smiled.

The Weasley boy was being Sorted. Harry was amused to see that he was pale-green by now, which did not complement his red-hair and freckles at all. A second later, the Hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"

Weasley collapsed into the chair a few seats past Neville in relief. Harry felt sorry for Neville; he had to put up with that Weasley boy for the next seven years. Perhaps he would teach Neville the Imperturbable Charm – Neville would need it, Harry was sure.

Finally, the Sorting Ceremony ended. When McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away, 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. And Harry didn't think Dumbledore was faking it at all.

"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!"

Dumbledore sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. And Harry exchanged a look with Draco that said it all.

The start-of-term banquet was nothing like the meals at the parties his grand-mère threw at the Manor; rather, they were like his birthday dinners all combined: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon, and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire puddings, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs. Harry sampled a bit of everything, and was glad to see that it was as good as the food back home. Harry also made sure he ate enough of the vegetables too – he was sure his grand-mère would be able to somehow tell that he wasn't eating enough vegetables.

When Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, he saw that the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost, was sitting right next to Draco, who was clearly not happy with the seating arrangements.

"Poor Draco," Harry murmured to Mandy, who giggled in response.

Indeed, everyone was laughing, eating heartily, and utterly enjoying themselves – except for Granger, who merely moved her food around the plate rather listlessly. There was still at least a few feet between her and the rest of her House, as though she were diseased – resulting in some of the Slytherin students being squished together rather uncomfortably.

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, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…

Harry, who'd eaten less than he normally would have so he could enjoy the desserts, helped himself to treacle tarts and strawberries, as the conversation around him turned to their families.

"I'm a half-blood," said Lisa Turpin. "My mum's a Muggle. Dad didn't tell her he was a wizard until after they were married. Quite a nasty shock for her, of course."

"What about you, Terry? The name Boot doesn't sound familiar to me," said Mandy.

"My parents are Muggles – teachers, the both of them. They were quite surprised when I got my letter."

Michael Corner – who had come to Harry's party although Harry hadn't kept in touch with him – started at that, and began speaking with Morag in what he probably thought was a real subtle manoeuvre. Harry rolled his eyes and Anthony Goldstein – who had also come to the party but whom Harry had kept in touch with – turned his laughter into a cough and Mandy smiled in reply.

Now more than full, Harry looked around the Hall before glancing back up at the High Table. There was a professor in an absurd purple turban, talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Harry knew instantly that the latter man was Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House and Potions master. He'd heard stories of his parents at Hogwarts, and knew his father and James had been rather fierce rivals of Snape's. His grand-mère had warned him about Snape, about how Snape would be quite prejudiced towards Harry, and that he would likely do his best to try to make Harry's life miserable. Snape taught Potions, but considering how seeped he had been in Dark Arts while in school, his grand-mère thought he was after the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. She had sternly told him to contact her at once if Snape made any inappropriate comments or if any blatant unfairness was present, as she was on Hogwarts' Board of Directors and had the power to get him sacked.

As Harry was thinking, Snape looked past the other teacher's turban and straight into Harry's eyes, and a sharp, hot pain suddenly shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. Harry bit his cheek to stop crying out in pain; Credo appeared on his shoulder in a burst of flames, and the pain thankfully disappeared as quickly as it had come, as though fleeing from Credo's presence. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten – a feeling that Harry didn't like at all. Although Harry wasn't certain if it had been Snape who had caused his scar to flare, he made a mental note to send a letter to his grand-mère anyway.

"Thanks, Credo," Harry said quietly to his phoenix. He ran his fingers along Credo's feathers to calm down and ignored everyone's attentions on him and his phoenix. He was happy to note Dumbledore looked quite surprised at the appearance of a phoenix – McGonagall hadn't mentioned it to him, which Harry thought was rather promising.

"Who's that teacher talking with Professor Snape?" Harry asked Penelope Clearwater, a fifth year prefect, both to disperse all the attention and in genuine curiosity.

The question snapped Penelope out of staring entranced at his phoenix. "Oh, you know Professor Snape already, do you?" Though it was very subtle, from the way she said his name, Harry got the idea that she didn't much like him. "The teacher beside him is Professor Quirrell. He teaches Defence."

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

"Ahem – just a few more words now that 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 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 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."

A few of the students laughed; Harry exchanged glances with Neville and Draco. Could Dumbledore be keeping whatever he'd removed from that vault in Gringotts here at Hogwarts?

"He's not serious?" Boot muttered to Penelope.

"Must be," said Penelope, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, 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 teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as though 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. Harry wondered what spell he used to do that.

"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,

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 will rot.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very 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," Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Ravenclaw first years followed Penelope through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Harry was quite tired, but strove not to show it, even if the rest of the first years were equally exhausted and sleepy. They passed by the various portraits, some of which whispered and pointed as they walked by, which Harry thought was quite rude. Penelope led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, and as they climbed more staircases, Harry tried not to yawn or drag his feet. Having memorised the passageways and corridors of Hogwarts, Harry didn't pay as much attention as the others on how to make their way to the Ravenclaw Tower.

"Here we are," Penelope said, and all the first years perked up slightly. She was standing in front of a door that had a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. No handle or a keyhole was in sight.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower. Instead of a conventional password, you must answer a question from the knocker. If the answer is correct, the door will swing open; if not, you will have to wait until someone can let you in." With that, Penelope turned to face the door.

"Who said this famous phrase: scientia potentia est?"

"Sir Francis Bacon."

"Excellent as always, Miss Clearwater. You may enter."

The door swung open to reveal a wide, circular, and very airy Ravenclaw Common Room. It was tastefully decorated with blue and bronze silk wall hangings and a midnight-blue carpet decorated with stars, which nicely matched the star-strewn domed ceiling. Arched windows with a spectacular view of the night sky graced the walls.

Besides the door that led to the dormitories – and Harry admired a life-sized white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw that stood next to it – the round room was full of squashy armchairs and tables. There was a fireplace along one wall, and a huge bookcase on the opposite end, with lots of desks along the walls in between. The first years were soon sent to their rooms, with strict instructions to be up early as it was tradition for the entire House to head to breakfast together the morning after.

Too tired to talk much, they trudged up to their rooms, and pulling on their pyjamas, fell into their four-poster beds.

"Good night, Credo," Harry murmured, before falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Hermione in Slytherin! Tell me what you think!