Chapter four: Houses and Hopes

The three of them stuck together as they got of the train and into little boats to cross the giant lake. Although his parents had told him a little about the journey, Ron couldn't help but feel apprehensive—Fred and George had made it sound awful, and Percy had just arrogantly told him that he'd find out when it was his turn. Following the humongous gamekeeper with the other first years, Ron couldn't help but notice that the number of students seemed so much smaller than he had expected it to be. It's the war, he thought grimly. So many people are still afraid to let their kids go. He tried not to frown as he followed Harry into a small boat, with Hermione right on his heels. No one else entered their boat; there seemed to be more of the little crafts than there were students.

Without warning, the boats sped forward across the lake, and he heard Hermione gasp quietly behind him. It was dark outside, and a little unnerving, so Ron was glad that he wasn't the only one who seemed anxious as the girl spoke nervously. Her voice sounded tiny against the backdrop of the huge lake.

"So, do you two know what houses you want to be in?"

Ron shrugged, trying not to seem worried. "My whole family's been in Gryffindor," he replied. "Both my parents, and all my brothers, too...I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. What about you, Hermione?"

"Gryffindor sounds the best to me, too," she replied quickly, and Ron through he saw her smile in the dim light. "They say that Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor, too—but I suppose Ravenclaw would be all right, too. And I can't stand the thought of being a Slytherin! Urgh!"

"No kidding," Ron agreed. "I bet Malfoy and those other gits will be there, though."

"Serves them right," Hermione declared, and Ron smiled.

"What about you, Harry?" he asked, turning to his other new friend, who seemed slightly distracted, staring across the water quietly. "Wasn't your dad in Gryffindor? I think my brother Charlie mentioned him playing Quidditch."

"Yeah. My Mum was too," Harry replied, and Ron could tell that he was trying to pretend to be calm. Harry clearly felt the same way he did—with an entire family in Gryffindor, how would everyone react if he wound up somewhere else? But Harry seemed to be winning the war of nerves. "So was the headmaster."

"How do you know that?" Hermione wondered. "That's not in Hogwarts, A History. I would have noticed—I've read it three times since I got my letter."

Unable to help himself, Ron snickered. He had been born in the Wizarding World, and the only copy of Hogwarts, A History that was in the Burrow was currently being used to hold one end of a bookshelf straight.

Harry blushed.

"My dad told me," he said, clearly hiding something.

"Why would he know?" Hermione pressed before Ron could say anything. "I mean, he's famous and all, but—" She frowned, shaking her head, and Ron had to dodge flying hair. "I thought the Aurors were in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and doesn't Hogwarts only have peripheral relationships with the Ministry, anyway..? I can't remember the rest, but I could look it up."

"Nah, you don't need to do that," Ron managed to get in, exchanging a glance with Harry. Clearly, his new friend felt the same way he did. Hermione was nice, but she sure did talk a lot.

"Dad knows him, that's all," Harry told Hermione.

"Oooh. I guess he is important, isn't he?" she replied immediately, and Harry colored.

Poor guy, Ron thought, though he did half-agree with Hermione. His own father worked for the Ministry, but Arthur Weasley's role was a minor one, whereas James Potter was probably the most famous living Auror.

"Don't mention it, all right? Whatever house I'm in, I don't want people thinking I'm the headmaster's pet or something," Harry said hurriedly.

Now Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh! Of course not. We won't, will we, Ron?"

"Definitely not." At least that promise was easy to make.

He could understand Harry's reluctance—Ron was used to people judging him from his hair color and knowing he was a Weasley. For Harry, it was doubly bad, too, because his father was a world-famous Auror. Everyone knew who James Potter was. Currently the head of the Auror Division, Harry's dad was considered a shoo-in to be the next Head of Magical Law Enforcement, which was one of the highest-ranking jobs in the entire Ministry of Magic.

Harry smiled gratefully at them both, and Ron found himself grinning. There was nothing like conflict to build a friendship.

The boats had reached the other side of the lake without them noticing, and when Hermione gasped in surprise, Ron looked up at the underground harbour that they had arrived in. For a moment, all three children sat spellbound by this first view of Hogwarts' interior, until they heard the gamekeeper's voice calling their class.

"C'mon, follow me, firs' years! This way!" With a sweep of one huge arm, the giant waved them all forward, and they followed him, keeping close together. Step by step, they moved further into the castle, and the gamekeeper pounded on a large door as a horrible thought occurred to Ron. For the first time in his life, he'd found friends of his own (ones that had nothing to do with his brothers or his family), and suddenly he wondered if they might yet be separated. What if we're in different houses? On the verge of panic, he turned to Harry to share his concerns, but the great door opened Hagrid's booming voice floating back to him first.

"The firs' years, Professor Snape."

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

The oily voice made Ron's head snap up. In the doorway stood a tall man with a hook-nose and pale features. He wore stylish black robes that matched his greasy black hair and dark eyes. The way those eyes swept over the crowd of new students sent a chill running down Ron's spine, and somehow he got the feeling that this might not be the best professor to cross. He turned to Harry, hissing in his friend's ear. "Snape! My father says he's a Death Eater."

"Shh!" Hermione shushed him, elbowing Ron from the other side. "He's talking."

And indeed Professor Snape was speaking, after having opened the door wide and gestured for them all to step forward. "Welcome to Hogwarts," he said smoothly. "My name is Professor Snape, and I am the Deputy Headmaster of this school. In a few moments, you will enter the Great Hall to be sorted into your houses. These houses are Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. You will remain in the same house for all of your time here; your sorting will determine your friends and your future. I hope, for your sakes, that you are chosen wisely."

His black eyes swept over them once more, and Ron couldn't help but feel very cold. For a moment, it seemed that Professor Snape's eyes rested on Harry for a second longer than they did everyone else, but Ron had no idea why. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Harry just stared back calmly, seemingly not bothered by the Professor's unnerving gaze. Finally, though, Professor Snape spoke coolly.

"Follow me."

Butterflies rose in Harry's stomach as they entered the Great Hall. A sea of faces stared at his class as they made their way forward; he could see the colored banners hanging over the four tables, representing each of the four houses. Overhead, the ceiling glittered in a brilliant representation of the night sky, a fact that should have given him confidence, but did not. This is it, he thought to himself. No matter how many times he'd asked his parents, neither of them would tell him how the Sorting was done—all they would say was that he'd know when he got to Hogwarts. Beside him, he could see that Ron and Hermione looked every bit as worried as he, and the red haired boy's blank look matched his own. It was clear that Ron didn't know what was going on, either, despite all the older siblings he had at the school.

Professor Snape led them forward, finally halting before the head table. Harry felt the eyes resting on him from that table, but he resisted the urge to look back. Instead, he watched the Deputy Headmaster stride away, returning quickly with a four-legged stool, upon which sat a dirty old hat. Confused, he stared at the ragged wizard's hat, wondering what its purpose could possibly be—and then the hat burst into song.

"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 of heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you're 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!"

Beside him, Harry heard Ron snarl over the crowd's applause. "I'm going to kill Fred and George! They kept saying that we'd have to wrestle a troll, and all we've got to do is try on a hat."

Harry grinned, trying to cover up his own nervousness. Even though he was fairly sure of what house he'd be in (he couldn't imagine why the hat would put him anywhere else, anyway), he wasn't exactly keen on putting that hat atop his head in front of the entire school. Couldn't they do this in private? But Snape was speaking.

"When I call your name, step forward, sit on the stool, and place the hat on your head," he said coldly. He glanced briefly at the first years before reading off the first name.

"Abbot, Hannah."

The hat had barely touched her head before it shouted: "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry watched with interest as the girl leapt of the stool and ran to join her clapping housemates. Oh, how he wished he was at the beginning of the alphabet, instead of way down at the end—

"Bones, Susan."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry."

"RAVENCLAW!"

And so the sorting went on, with some students being sorted in seconds, and others taking much, much longer. However, as Professor Snape consulted the roll another time, Harry heard a sharp intake of breath on his right. The Deputy Headmaster's unsettling eyes had come to rest on one of his companions, and Snape spoke with, if possible, even more of an icy tone. "Granger, Hermione."

Her wild eyes looked at Harry and Ron, and without knowing why, Harry reached out to squeeze his newest friend's elbow. "It'll be okay," he said quietly. "Good luck."

"Yeah, good luck," Ron echoed.

There was a final, nervous smile, and Hermione was gone. Soon, she was on the stool, pulling the hat quickly onto her head. It had barely touched her hair when a huge smile split the hat's "face" and it shouted.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Grinning, Hermione ran to the table where Harry noticed Percy, Ron's prefect brother, sitting, and he sighed in relief. He was glad that the hat hadn't wanted to put her in Slytherin. That would have been so unfair to her...not like everything that had happened on the train wasn't unfair to Hermione. Harry just didn't understand why some people were so arrogant that they believed blood was everything... Distantly, he noticed when Malfoy ended up (quite predictably, he thought) in Slytherin, but then Snape was saying,

"Potter, Harry."

Harry bounded forward. It wasn't that he was as confident as the stuck-up Malfoy; he just wanted to get it over with. I hope Dad's right, he thought to himself. I hope I'm not such a screw-up that I end up in Slytherin or something. A cold feeling wormed its way down his spine. What if I get put in Slytherin? he thought suddenly. What would Dad say? Almost all the Death Eaters were Slytherins... Before he could talk himself out of it, Harry sat down and pulled the Sorting Hat onto his head. He took a deep breath, and then heard a very quiet voice speaking in his ear.

"Well, now...I know you," the hat chuckled. "Afraid of being in Slytherin, are you? Someone with your power would do well there...but not someone with your heart. Indeed, I haven't seen someone with your kind of heart in a long, long, time..."

Harry tried to let out the breath he knew he was holding.

"...Not even your father," the Sorting Hat continued. "You will indeed have an interesting future, Harry Potter, although it is not as dark as it might have been, had things turned out just a little differently... You're sure to do well in GRYFFINDOR!"

He could have whooped with delight, but instead ran to his new house's table, sitting next to a grinning Hermione. "We're in the same house!" she gasped. "I can't believe it!"

"Me neither," he said, letting his relief out in a huge breathless grin. But Minutes later, as one Ronald Weasley joined them at the Gryffindor table, completing their trio.

Soon, the feast had begun, and that, at least, proved to be everything that his parents had promised it would be. Harry dove into the food eagerly; despite the sweets he'd eaten on the train (which seemed to have been a lifetime in the past), he was starving. Even at home, he'd never seen anything quite like this—there were all kinds of foods, even some that he wasn't sure the name of. The conversation, too, was highly entertaining, from meeting the Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas, to getting to know his housemates. One of them, Neville Longbottom, he remembered meeting several times before. His parents are both Aurors, Harry remembered suddenly. He was in hiding as a kid, too.

"So, what do you think?" Ron was asking him, which forced Harry out of his reverie.

He blinked. "Sorry. I was thinking. What do I think about what?"

Ron laughed. "Obviously. I was asking—"

Suddenly, the deserts disappeared, and the entire hall fell silent as the Headmaster rose. Like the others, Harry turned to listen as the wizard began to speak.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor Remus Lupin said. "Before you head off to your dorms, there are a few start of term notices that I need to announce.

"First of all, all first years, and some mischievous returning students—" here, he looked rather pointedly in the direction of Ron's twin brothers "—should be aware that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students, hence the choice of name." Lupin smiled slightly before continuing.

"Second, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, would like me to remind you that using magic in the corridors between classes is prohibited. Also, for all those who are interested, the list of forbidden objects has been extended to include Belch Powder and fake wands. The entire list now includes three hundred and ninety nine items, which Mr. Filch will gladly display to any and all interested parties."

Hearing those words, Harry had to bite back a snicker; if half the stories his dad had told him about his school years were true, half the items on that list were on it with the help from Hogwarts' current Headmaster...but Lupin was still speaking.

"And of course, I remind all students to stay clear of my office on nights of the full moon."

A murmur ran through the first years, but it wasn't as loud as it might have been. It was common knowledge, of course, that Professor Lupin (or Remus, as Harry had grown up calling him) was a werewolf. Once, that might have caused quite a stir, but Lupin had been teaching at Hogwarts for the past eight years, and hardly anyone thought about that, anymore. He'd been Headmaster for the past four years, too, and everyone knew what a good man he was—and that the creation of the Wolfsbane Potion kept him from harming anyone. Harry, of course, was slightly prejudiced in favor of one of his dad's best friends, but the entire magical community found it hard to dislike Remus Lupin.

"That being said," the headmaster continued, "If all prefects will lead their first years to the dormitories, it is time for bed."

Later that night, when Harry dropped into the bed next to Ron, he couldn't help but think it was going to indeed be an interesting year. Interesting, indeed.