Ron and West joined the throng heading for the exits. "Glad they have baggage service. Can you imagine trying to carry our gear through this chaos?"
"You nervous about the Sorting? My brother Fred told me we have to wrestle a troll. Of course I wouldn't believe him if he said the sun was shining, jolly joker."
"Didn't you read Hogwarts, A History ? Dumbledore had me get a copy when we picked up my books at Flourish and Blotts."
Ron looked embarrassed. "Uh, well my parents only got me and my brothers the basics, you know."
Now that everybody was in uniform West could see that Ron's robes were indeed rather shopworn while his own were new and of the finest material like Malfoy's. I'm equipped like the local rich young snots. He was beginning to understand just how much the Ministry was willing to invest in his success. Again he wondered, What's in it for them?
The mountain of a man he'd met at the castle was at the end of the platform.
"Firs’ years, firs’ years,” he called out over the throng. “Hold on there, youngun, just the firs’ years. You need to take the carriage with the other returnin' students. Oh it's you George. Professor Dumbledore said to be on the look out for you. Right this way," then he continued bellowing, "Four to a boat. Firs’ years, four to a boat."
West caught sight of Hermione in the throng and squeezed his way toward her. "Four to a boat, he says. Shall we ride together?"
"Oh yes, I'd like that," she said with enthusiasm. The she looked embarrassed as if she'd shown more than she meant to.
As the boats sailed under who knows what power or guidance West and Hermione tried not to look at each other too much. She was rattling off all she could remember from her reading about the school, the castle itself and everything around. She only paused when West put in what he recalled.
They were both plainly trying to cover up their nervousness; but whether about the start of a new life in magic or from the nearness of each other even they didn't know. When they came around the bend and saw the castle for the first time they were both speechless, perhaps for the first time in their lives.
The boats docked and they followed the huge man up the stairs into a chamber where they were met by none other than Professor McGonagall. The giant bowed his head briefly and said, "The firs years, Professor."
"Thank you, Hagrid." He withdrew.
She marched them into the Great Hall. The four tables seamed to hold thousands though West knew from the book there were only a few hundred in each house. The faculty at the head table loomed over him like a pantheon of gods waiting to pass judgment on him. The pillars reached up endlessly like the stalagmites of a cavern at the heart of the world. Hermione was speaking but West couldn't hear the words. For the first time since he'd met her something else demanded his attention.
He struggled to hold on to some shred of control. All he wanted was to run screaming from The Hall, run all the way back to Texas and never leave her borders again. But too much was riding on this. Here was his chance to make his parents proud, to gain skill to make it in life and help people, to build understanding between two great nations.
Then some of Hermione's nervous chatter soaked through. "The ceiling isn't real, you know. It's enchanted to match the outside. I read it in Hogwarts, A History." That was it! That was what he needed! There he found the strength to go on. He would do it for Hermione. He would stay to be with her. He would face the hosts of heck to be with her. Heck? What the Heck? Oh yeah, the Anti-Cussing Spell on the castle. I knew it was powerful but I didn't know it even censured our thoughts.
Professor McGonagall placed a stool with an ancient, decrepit wizard's hat. As she was explaining the procedure West stared. A hat? A HAT? All I have to do is wear a sadomasochistic HAT? He nearly groaned out loud remembering what he'd read about the sorting before leaving the states. The fear had driven the memory from his mind.
The Professor began reading the names from the list. One by one the frightened pre-teens marched up to the stool, put on the hat and were cheered by their new families. In no time she was announcing, "Granger, Hermione."
West watched intently. He expected her to join Ravenclaw, but after brief pause The Hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"
I've GOT to get into that house, I've GOT TO! his thoughts shouted.
Finally his name was called and he gathered what strength he had left and, head held high, strode to the stool. The thought of being separated from her brought back the fear; all the students, all the faculty, even the portraits and statues along the walls seemed to weigh down on him. He felt alone and helpless. His parents, his old friends, his teachers back home couldn't help him now. He felt he was alone in space, his grip on the ship's strut gone and he was hurtling into the infinite void.
There was nothing to do but go on. How he made it he never knew but he was sitting on the stool with The Hat in his hands. A desperate hope came to him. Maybe I can ask this thing to put me in a particular house, maybe it considers individual preference. He was raising The Hat to his head. I'll ask it. I'll beg it. I'll plead... But before he could form a coherent thought, before The Hat had touched his head it shouted, ringing off of the stone rafters, "GRYFFINDOR!!!!!!!!!!!!"