Chapter 2

Sure enough, the train slowed to a stop. Students flooded the corridors and once again, Al and his friends had to fight their way through. This time they weren't held back by their luggage and got out onto the platform.

Al distinctly heard, "Firs' years over here! Firs' years to me!"

They turned around and spotted the friendly bearded face a little ways off. Al, Lysander, Rosie and Siobhan pushed their way through the throngs of kids waiting for their carriages and approached Hagrid.

"All righ', you lot?" Hagrid greeted them with a smile. Hagrid was a very large man; the four of them came up to Hagrid's middle. He had wild hair and a beard with warm, crinkly black eyes. He had been a family friend of theirs for as long as Al could remember.

"Hi Hagrid," Al and Rosie said, at ease. Al noticed Siobhan looking wide-eyed and edged over to her.

"He's all right," Al told her in an undertone. "Not scary at all, really."

Al looked around at the first years gathered there; he could see Lorcan chatting with a dark-skinned girl. Malfoy was standing stiffly with Darren McLaggen and a girl wearing a haughty expression. Al's cousin Louis was practically bouncing up and down with his excitement.

Hagrid called over the sound of the train beginning to leave, "All firs' years here, then? Firs' years, follow me!"

The group set off down a narrow path. Al thought it was probably surrounded by trees on either side, as it was quite dark. Siobhan tripped and almost fell a couple times, but Al managed to catch her arm each time. Around the bend, there was a collective gasp as Hogwarts came into view; the majestic castle towered with battlements and towers across a great black lake. Hagrid pointed them to a fleet of small boats waiting at the edge of the water.

"No more’n four to a boat," Hagrid shouted.

Al climbed into a boat followed by his friends; the evening was crisp and he could see the stars twinkling high above the lake. Rosie nudged him and he looked back down again. The fleet of boats magically moved out, with Hagrid at the front in his own boat. Everyone was silent as the boats glided across the water. The castle towered on top of a cliff, and the boats quickly approached it. Hagrid yelled out for everyone to duck when they reached the base of the cliff face; Al quickly ducked and the boats glided under a veil of ivy covering an entrance in the cliff. When the boats stopped at a gravel embankment, everyone climbed out. Siobhan tripped over the edge and was saved by Hagrid catching the back of her robes. A couple people snickered. Al glared at them. It wasn’t her fault, the boats were awkward to climb out of. Everyone climbed through the short tunnel in the rock and arrived on the sweeping lawns in front of Hogwarts.

Hagrid strode across the grass, approaching the big castle doors, and the group had to hurry along to keep up with him. Hagrid glanced around at everyone. “Everyone here? You there, still on yer two feet? Right then.” He knocked soundly on the door.

Instantly, the oak doors swung open and standing there was a short wizard. Al thought he was vaguely familiar; a friend of his parents, posibly. The wizard wore a black hat and dark navy robes and a very pompous expression. Al could tell this was a teacher of the sort that took rules rather seriously.

“Thank you, Professor Hagrid. I trust the boat ride was pleasant. You can go into the Great Hall now,” the Professor said. The first years followed him through into the entrance hall; it was so big that Al could hardly make out the ceiling. There was a magnificent staircase leading up to upper floors, and the walls were lined with flaming torches. The walls were stone and the floor was flagged stone; on their right, there was a door leading to what must be where the rest of the school was; Al could hear a babble of hundreds of voices as they walked past it. The Professor led them into a small chamber and addressed them.

“I am Professor Macmillan, Deputy Headmaster, Potions Master and Head of Hufflepuff House,” began Professor Macmillan. “Welcome to Hogwarts. In a few moments we will enter the Great Hall where the rest of the school is seated, but before you can join them, you must be Sorted into your Houses.”

There was a stirring of excitement and nervousness among the first years. Professor Macmillan told them about the four houses, and explained how points work into winning the House Cup. Al had heard this already from his family members and paid a little less attention. Professor Macmillan told them to please wait there until it was time for the Sorting.

“Listen,” Lysander caught the attention of Al, Rosie and Siobhan. “If I’m not in your house, then we’re all still friends, right?”

“Of course,” Rosie assured him.

“I hope we’re not separated,” Al worried, not sure what he’d do if he was going to be alone in a house without any of them. Just then, a couple people squealed and everyone around him gasped; a few dozen pearly-white ghosts had just floated through the wall of the chamber. Most of them didn’t look down at them and continued on, but some stopped and stared at them. Al had never seen one before, apart from the ghoul at his granddad’s and grandma’s house; he took a rather nervous step back as the ghost of a plump man smiled down at them.

“Newcomers to Hogwarts, I suppose?” the plump man asked. A couple people nodded. Al could tell some of them had never even heard of ghosts at Hogwarts before, as they looked terrified; probably the muggle-borns. They were a little bit scary, although he’d never admit that in the hearing of James.

A serene woman glided along. “I hope to see you in the noble house of Ravenclaw. It was mine when I lived,” she told them coldly. More people inched back. Everyone was standing rather closer together than they normally would have.

“Ah, don’t prejudice them before they are even started school, Helena!” the jolly man reprimanded her, although his tone was pleasant. “I’m the Fat Friar of Hufflepuff, myself,” he told them proudly.

Just then, the chamber door opened and Professor Macmillan entered. “It’s high time the ghosts of Hogwarts entered the hall,” he told them.

“Right you are, Professor, sorry,” they said, and floated on through the wall. Al supposed that floating through walls was normal for a ghost.

“Form a single file line and follow me,” the Professor instructed them, and once they had formed a line, he led them from the chamber into the door to the Great Hall.

Nothing Al had ever seen could compare to the Great Hall. Thousands of candles floated in the air, casting a dim light of their own all over the four long tables of the hall, where the students were sitting watching them. The ceiling might as well not be there; it looked just like the sky outside. It was dotted with stars and constellations; Al was fascinated with it. Rosie nudged him, and she whispered, “The ceiling is enchanted to look like the outside sky. My mum was telling me. It’s quite a powerful spell.”

Al nodded to her vaguely. He started paying more attention to the people around him. The tables were laid with glittering gold goblets and plates. Al could see the ghosts of Hogwarts seated here and there in the four tables, shining with a silvery light. At the head of the hall, to which they were walking towards, was a high table that seated the teachers; Al took a count, mostly doing so to avoid the staring eyes of the students- there were twelve seats, one near the middle being empty, and Al understood it to belong to Professor Macmillan.

Professor Macmillan stopped them, and Al noticed a plain wooden stool in front of the teacher’s table, and on it was a frayed, patched, filthy pointed hat. It was a discolored green and clearly very old. Al supposed that this was the Sorting Hat. He felt a little in awe of it.

Al noticed that everyone was watching the hat, so he watched it too, wondering if it was going to do a tap-dance or something. Just then a tear in the hat opened- Al realized it was a mouth of sorts- and began to sing.

Well it’s that time again

I suppose I’m to sort you

I don’t really feel like it

But it’s my purpose in life

So I guess I have to

Once upon a time I was a hat

Perched upon Gryffindor’s head

The founders had an issue you see

They worried how to Sort you lot

After they had gone themselves

So here I am, the solution

I guess I’d better tell you about the houses

Well you could be a daring Gryffindor

They’re quite brave and chivalrous

Or you could be a lovely Hufflepuff

They work a lot and are faithful, like badgers

You may even be a clever Ravenclaw

She was only smart cause of her diadem though

If you don’t know what that is

Ask Harry Potter, or his son Al, he’s here, everyone stare at him

Oh yeah there’s another house

No one likes it except the ones that are in it

That’d be dear Slytherin. He’s not a dear.

Slytherins are ambitiously evil

They are also quite mean

But some of them are alright

If you don’t know what I’m talking about

Then you ought to ask for Al Potter’s middle name

He’s the one I told you to stare at- go on, stare some more

Well anyway I’m done singing for the year

Let the sorting begin, if it must.

Al turned bright red. Everyone clapped politely, and Professor Macmillan walked in front of them and opened a large scroll of parchment and begun to read names off of it. “Ascot, Terri!”

A small girl with black hair stumbled up to the stool, sat down, and put the hat on. After a moment, the rip opened and shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The table on the far left exploded with cheers, and all the other tables clapped politely.

“Connor, Timothy!”

A boy who had been standing in front of Al ran up to the stool. The hat fell over his eyes and after a couple seconds, shouted “RAVENCLAW!”

“Finch, Callie” became a Ravenclaw too, and the table that Al assumed was Ravenclaw was applauding loudly. Next, however, Professor Macmillan called “Finnigan, Siobhan!” Al watched a little anxiously as she half-tripped her way to the stool. She picked the hat up, dropped it, picked it up again and put it on her brown head. There was no sound from the hat. Al could see her twisting her hands in her lap. He wondered why on earth it was taking so long.

Finally, the rip widened and shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” The Gryffindor table burst into cheers and Al sighed with relief. He clapped a little too, as a beaming Siobhan ran over to the Gryffindor table. Al saw her accidentally elbow a boy at the table in the face when she sat down and grinned a little to himself.

Next was “Harris, Sherice”… “James, Casey”… “Lane, Brannon”. Next Professor Macmillan called, “Malfoy, Scorpius!”

All eyes turned to the young boy as he walked purposefully up to the stool and sat down, taking the hat in his hands. Al saw a flash of hesitation before determination set in and Scorpius jammed it on his head firmly.

Minutes went by.

Everyone in the hall was getting restless, watching him silently. Al couldn’t help but wonder what they’d do if the hat just didn’t sort him. He had to admit, he was a little relieved this was happening already, so if it happened to him too… not that he believed James… he wouldn’t have been the first.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong with the hat?” Rosie whispered to him.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Lysander assured her, looking straight at Scorpius. “I just think it’s having to make a very tough decision.”

“How can it be that hard? He’s a Malfoy,” Rosie protested, but Lysander hushed her and everyone turned to look back at Scorpius. The brim widened and the hat shouted-

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“No way!”

“It can’t be!”

“He’s a Malfoy!”

“Why isn’t he in Slytherin?”

There was no cheering now; everyone broke out into incredulous whispers. Scorpius, a little pink, made his way with his head held high to the Gryffindor table on the far left. Some teachers started clapping slowly and the school followed, lightly tapping their hands together, rather late in the uptake. The Sorting continued.

To Al, Rosie, and Lysander’s irritation, “McLaggen, Darren” was also made a Gryffindor.

“Being a Gryffindor used to be rare! They’re giving the bloody house title away,” Rosie said with disgust.

“Moon, Jared,”…“Parker, Lionel”… After “Puffer, Jerry” Al’s name was called.

Al realized that everyone had turned to stare at him when they heard his last name and hurried up to the stool, trying to avoid catching anyone’s eye contact. He heard them muttering, “Wait, his surname is Potter? As in Harry Potter’s kid?” and Al was even more irritated when he heard one person say, “That’s James Potter’s kid brother.”

He sat down on the stool and put the Sorting Hat onto his head, which fell down over his eyes. Instantly, a voice whispered into his ear, and Al knew it to be the Hat’s.

“How interesting, another Potter kid, I see,” the hat mused. “There’s so much of your father here in your head. Courage, certainly, and a fairly intelligent mind, that’s new. Er, not that he wasn’t clever. My, my, you have his talent, too. A bit of a temper deep down, I expect that’s your mother. Now where to put you?”

“If it’s not too much trouble…” Al began.

“Yes, I know, you want to go to Gryffindor. Doesn’t everybody?” The hat asked himself. “Well, you could go there, I suppose. You’d do more then fine in Ravenclaw, and goodness, maybe even Slytherin, you certainly have the ambition- no? Not Slytherin? Just like your father. Well, then, it had better be GRYFFINDOR!”

The last was shouted aloud to the hall. The Gryffindor table exploded with cheers and Al took off the hat, dropped it on the stool, and all but sprinted to the table, utterly delirious with his relief. He sat down next to Siobhan, who was smiling widely at him.

Finally, “Scamander, Lorcan” was called. Lysander’s twin Lorcan strode purposefully up to the stool. The moment the hat touched his head, it shouted, “RAVENCLAW!” Al clapped politely, but wasn’t disappointed. He hadn’t liked Lorcan much.

Next was “Scamander, Lysander”. Al crossed his fingers. To his relief, that hat took only a few moments to shout, “GRYFFINDOR!” and Lysander ran over to join Al and Siobhan.

“Snuffle, Tia” was followed by the haughty girl Al had seen with Scorpius; “Stanley, Victoria” was made a Slytherin instantly. After a couple more people they arrived at “Weasley, Louis”, Al’s cousin. To no one’s surprise, he was made a Gryffindor. Next was Rosie’s turn; she trotted up to the stool eagerly, picked up the hat and jammed it on her head. It immediately declared her, too, a Gryffindor. Siobhan, Al, and Lysander sighed in relief as she ran up to them and sat down, beaming. After “Yukon, Rochelle” was sorted, Professor Macmillan rolled up his scroll and took away the hat and stool.

The Professor at the center of the teacher’s table stood, presumably the Headmistress whom Al vaguely thought he might know the name of. Everyone’s whispered conversations died down, watching her expectantly.

“Welcome, new students; old students, welcome back! I’m sure you’re all very hungry, but there is a time for speech making; now is not it. Enjoy your meal!”

There was some scattered applause as everyone turned and stared at their plates. Al was wondering if the silverware was going to sing, too, when all of a sudden the plates were loaded with delicious foodstuffs. There was steak, roast chicken, roast potatoes, carrots, peas, Yorkshire pudding, roast beef… Al was ecstatic. It wasn’t like he’d never had good cooking before, but this was fantastic. Al helped himself to the steak and potatoes generously.

After a long meal and excellent pudding- the table produced all kinds of pudding after the main course was finished- Al was feeling quite comfortably full and sleepy. The first years had a chance to chat with each other; they were all decent kids, except perhaps Malfoy and McLaggen. Al was mostly excited for classes to start- learning magic would be so fun!

“Don’t you think it’s going to be hard work, though?” Siobhan said reasonably. “It’s not going to be just waving our wands and making sparks. There’s much more to magic then that.”

A couple people looked at her and she looked embarrassed. Rochelle Yukon said condescendingly, “I think there’s a fair bit of wand-waving involved in magic, Finnigan.”

Siobhan didn’t speak out again.

Al asked Rosie, “What’s the headmistress’ name, again?”

“Professor Sprout,” Rosie said primly.

“Right. What does she teach?”

An older boy sitting across from Siobhan spoke up. “She doesn’t teach,” he said, as if this should be obvious. “She’s Headmistress.”

They all turned to look at the boy who spoke. He had a striking appearance; his hair black and spiked around his head with a fringe that swept down onto his pale face. His eyes were a bold black and he was probably taller then all of them.

“Surely she used to be a teacher,” said Al.

“Well, yeah, she was Herbology professor and head o’ Hufflepuff,” the boy said, raising an eyebrow. Al wished he wouldn’t be so condescending. He hadn’t even started school yet. How was he supposed to know?

Lysander stuck his head in. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Williams,” he told him. “Declan Williams. Third year. You are?”

“Lysander Scamander.”

“Rosie Weasley.”

“Al Potter.”

The boy’s black eyebrows wiggled. “Potter, huh? As in the Auror Potter’s kid?”

“If you mean Harry Potter, yes, that’s my dad,” Al said flatly.

“I know your brother. He’s annoying.”

“I’d noticed,” Al said dryly.

Williams turned his attention from them to Siobhan, who had been silently nibbling her pudding throughout the exchange. “And what’s your name?”

Siobhan started. “I’m Siobhan,” she said, pulling her hair out of her eyes. She looked awkward that he had called her out. “Siobhan Finnigan.”

“Uh…” Lysander looked at her. Siobhan reddened a little, then knocked over her pumpkin juice. She scrambled to mop it up, letting her hair fall back into her eyes.

Williams watched her, looking mildly amused. “Nice to meet you, Siobhan.” He said easily, adding, “I’m Declan.” Siobhan nodded his direction, clearly embarrassed.

Just then, Headmistress Sprout stood to speak and the hall gradually fell silent.

“Another year begins! As usual I have start of term notices for you. First off, I have been asked by the caretaker, Mr Stuart, to remind you that there is an extended list of rules posted on his office door and House bulletin boards and ought to be checked. He also wanted me to specifically tell you that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds, and no magic is to be used in corridors. Next, Quidditch tryouts won’t be until start until last week of September. Contact your Head of House or your Quidditch Captain to put your name on the list of hopefuls.”

Al began to zone out, wishing she would finish so he could go to bed. He supposed his trunks and owl were already there. No, wait, Cassiopeia would be in the owlery, not his dorm. He was starting to nod off when Rosie jabbed him in the side with her elbow. He snapped to attention.

“…classes begin after breakfast at nine sharp. Now, off to bed, everyone!” Professor Sprout beamed at them all.

“First years, over here! This way, first years!” A familiar girl called. Al realized it was his cousin, Louis’ sister, Dominique. He groaned; he’d forgotten she’d been made a prefect. He could never escape his bloody family, it was so big.

The first years followed Dominique and the other prefect out of the great hall and up the stairs. They passed some really cool moving portraits and had to jump over a step on the stairwell; apparently you could get stuck in it. There were knights of armor everywhere and tapestries on the walls depicting battle scenes. Finally, they arrived at a large portrait of a large woman in a pink dress.

The lady spoke to them placidly. “Password?”

“Conundrum.” Dominique enunciated clearly. The portrait door swung open and Al got his first view of the Gryffindor tower. The common room was circular and had a lot of comfy armchairs and tables; there was a blazing fire in the fireplace. Dominique instructed the first years which dormitory was theirs and when to come down in the morning.

They stumbled up the staircase. Finding their trunks awaiting them, the boys changed into their pajamas at once, sleepy and full of good food.

“I suppose classes will be very interesting…” Al yawned, climbing into his four-poster bed.

“Yes… yes… the food was delicious,” Lysander mumbled, pulling on his pajama shirt.

Malfoy and McLaggen were silent on their side of the room. Louis had got the middle bed and was the neutral zone between the two duos. Malfoy abruptly closed his red and gold hangings and did not speak a word to anyone. Al was too sleepy to care.

“Cassiopeia’s in the Owlery, I expect…” Al pulled his blankets up to his neck.

“Yes, that’s where the owls go…” Lysander’s voice faded.

Not a minute later, they were both sound asleep. Soon every boy except for one was soundly snoring in the first year Gryffindor dormitory; just one lay awake, staring up at the canopy above his bed, dreading the dawn. After awhile, the distraught boy fell into an uneasy slumber, never knowing that what he considered a calamity was quite possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him.