The massive door creaked open, and standing beyond was a steel-haired woman with a tartan band on her pointed hat that Harry recognised immediately. Minerva McGonagall nodded to Hagrid and swept the door open further. “I will take them from here, thank-you Hagrid.” she said, beckoning the dripping throng in impatiently. As each stepped across the threshold they were magically dried, and sighs of relief rose up among those inside.

When all were inside and dry, Professor McGonagall let the door swing closed and took a place at the head of the group. “My name is Minerva McGonagall, as some of you may already know; but you should address me as Professor. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly but before it can, all of you must be sorted into your houses. Your house is your second family at Hogwarts, for sports and classes as well as daily life. Follow me to the Great Hall, please, and quietly. Those of you with pets, leave them here and they will be taken upstairs.”

With that she turned and set off toward the archway that must lead to the banquet hall, by the noise emanating from it. Dubiously the new students followed her, some making a short detour to the side as instructed (Callie complained loudly about being abandoned), forming a nervous little herd that clung together for security as they entered the brilliantly candle-lit hall, overwhelmed by the light and noise.

Professor McGonagall faced them again as they crowded the back of the hall, and at a brisk clap of her hands they fell silent. “The four houses are Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, named for the founders of this school. Each house has its’ own history, and each has produced outstanding practitioners of magic for centuries. While you are here at Hogwarts, your successes will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose the same. At the end of the year the House Cup is awarded to the house with the most points, so you will find that your peers encourage you to follow the rules also. I hope each of you is a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

On some unseen signal, a stool was brought forth by an older student and placed at the head of the aisle in which they stood. Upon the cushioned stool was a dilapidated pointed hat, crumpled and mouldered and ripped with age. Harry paid it little mind as she gazed upward at the ceiling, heavy with dark cloud. She heard Hermione’s hushed whisper, educating Ron of its’ enchantment and grinned, they had read about it together in Hogwarts: A History. McGonagall clapped her hands again, bringing them to attention. “The Sorting will now begin. Stay quiet please, we want this to go quietly so all of us get to dinner.” She instructed.

Harry wondered wildly what they were expected to do with the hat – pull a rabbit out of it? It seemed the mad kind of thing they might expect. But instead, all attention was on the hat itself. The wrinkles and rips almost formed a face, and to Harry’s bewilderment the thing began to sing.

"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 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 bemusing hat concluded its’ song to scattered applause, and Professor McGonagall strode away to stand beside it at the head of the aisle. Hundreds of eyes from the six years’ worth of other students were on her, and the first years waited with trepidation.

“First up, Abbott, Hannah.” McGonagall called out. The group separated to allow a girl through, flushing pink with her blonde pigtails in disarray. McGonagall held the hat and gestured for the girl to sit on the stool where it had rested. With an air of ceremony, she placed the battered hat on Hannah’s head. It rested there for a moment as if deciding, before announcing in a thundering voice, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Confusing though it was, Harry was relieved – no great feats of magic were expected of her tonight.

The Sorting carried on alphabetically, through Bones, Susan (“HUFFLEPUFF!”) and numerous others. After Goyle, Gregory (“SLYTHERIN!”), it was Hermione’s turn. “Granger, Hermione,” McGonagall called out. Hermione stepped clear of the small crowd and coughed to draw the attention. “Ndiaye-Granger, professor.” she corrected calmly, pushing her braids back out of her face as she did so. Irritation aside, she took a seat and had the hat placed on her head. Unlike the others, her Sorting was not immediate and the hat took a good five minutes or so to decide. Eventually, the announcement “GRYFFINDOR!” was made, and Hermione joined the cheering table of students whose robes were accented with red and gold, grinning proudly. She locked eyes with Harry and mouthed something Harry couldn’t make out across the open space, probably some reassurance.

After Hermione the Sorting progressed quickly. Two Slytherins – Pace, Heather and Parkinson, Pansy – were sorted before Harry, and then all too quickly it was her turn.

“Potter, Harriet” Professor McGonagall announced, beckoning Harry forward with a kind smile warming her stern features. A chorus of whispers followed Harry’s every step up the aisle, too many to make out.

Harry sat down on the stool and anxiously peered up at the hat, as Professor McGonagall lowered it onto her head. It fell down around her ears, and Harry was startled to hear its’ gravelly voice echoing in her head. “You’re a tricky one, Miss Potter. Clever, to protect yourself instead of diving in headfirst. You’ve a thirst to prove yourself and no shortage of talent... Slytherin could be a good fit for you.” It wondered. Harry shook her head desperately, Not Slytherin! Not there. The hat’s voice in her head chuckled. “No, you’re quite right. You’re ambitious, but it’s not the drive in your heart. Intelligent too, but it’s not a thirst for knowledge that spurs you either... Brave, yes. Better be...” it muttered darkly. “GRYFFINDOR!” it decided, to another round of applause. Beaming, Harry took off the hat and joined Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Two redheads bearing a resemblance to Ron took up a chant, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” to resounding cheers along the table. The rest of the Sorting blurred together after that. Parvati and Ron joined their table, though Padma was sorted into Ravenclaw

Harry looked at her empty gilt-edged plate, her stomach growling. The food on the train seemed a distant memory and she wondered ill-temperedly when the teachers would get on with the rest of the evening. As if in response to her internal grumbling, a rail-thin man robed in brilliant brocaded violet, with long silver hair and an equally long beard, stood and clapped his hands once for silence.

“Welcome, all, to a new year at Hogwarts School of W-” he began, and Minerva beside him elbowed him sharply. He began again. “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Magic. I have a few words, before we begin our feast. And so, without further ado – Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Now, thank-you all, dig in.” He then seated himself again, rearranging his sleeves with a self-satisfied grin. It was left to Minerva to summon their food, and with a flourishing gesture a delectable spread appeared before them.

Harry had never seen so many things she liked to eat in one place. Roast chicken, beef and lamb, pork steaks and fruit sides, potatoes both mashed and boiled, salads both green and grainy. The smell was heavenly, so Harry seized the nearest serving spoon and set upon the feast with glee.

While they ate, Harry and her friends chattered with the other Gryffindors about the intricacies of castle life, and each-other. Aside from Harry, Hermione, Ron and Parvati there were six other new Gryffindors – Aeden Finnigan, a half-magic boy from Ireland; a freckled Scottish brunette named Faye Dunbarr; the boy who’d misplaced his toad – Neville Longbottom, also Scottish; a slightly scatterbrained blonde from East London named Lavender Brown who chattered excitedly with Hermione and Harry about their upcoming lessons in magical sciences; Dean Thomas-Adusei, a young Black boy who’d grown up down the street from Lavender but born to non-magical parents like Hermione and was incredibly excited for a whole new world of magical sporting; and an anxious Chinese boy named Eric Ngui whose family had recently moved to England for work and were incredibly surprised when their son showed magical talent. Harry was surprised to hear about the diversity of everyone’s backgrounds, she had assumed most were from magical families but some, like Eric’s, hadn’t had magic for several generations and others like Dean and Hermione, were the first magic-born in their families. Others like Neville and Ron were from old magic families but struggled with learning magic. The older Gryffindors teased and reassured them equally, that they would all learn in time. From the stories around the table, it seemed magical learning was messy and nobody seemed to have much of a problem with that.

As they all finished dinner, their plates were replaced with clean ones and the remains of the savoury banquet were swapped for an incredible array of desserts. The mood in the hall turned leisurely, and Harry ate slowly as she listened to Ron’s older brother point out their teachers. “That’s Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster,” Percy explained importantly, “and Professor McGonagall. She’s our head of house and teaches Transfiguration. Next to her there’s Flitwick, he’s the Ravenclaw head and he takes Charms; and Professor Sprout. She’s Hufflepuff house head and teaches Herbology if I recall rightly.”

“Who’s Slytherin’s head?” Harry inquired curiously. Percy gestured to a dark-haired, sallow man seated to the right of Professor Sprout. “Professor Snape. He teaches Potions and you want to be on your best behaviour around him, he’s a right devil for docking points.” he explained, with a grimace at his twin brothers – Fred and George, Harry had learned. “What about other teachers?” Hermione piped up. “I read Hogwarts has an incredible subject array, from languages to arithmancy and even defence against the Dark Arts!”

There weren’t many other adults in the hall other than those Percy had named, however. “Well, there’s Professor Kettleburn. He takes Care of Magical Creatures, so I’d guess that’s where he is now. And Professor Quirrell – the thin one, in the turban -”

Percy’s words faded out of Harry’s hearing, when she locked eyes on the man Percy had named. Pale and fretful-looking, there was an unhealthy greyish cast to his cheeks and a touch of yellow in the whites of his colourless eyes. Untidy strands of dirty blond hair straggled out from under his turban, which was a deep wine colour that only served to make its’ owner appear even more wan in his black work robes. Harry met his wandering eyes for a moment, and in that moment pain seared across her scar as if every nerve was scorched anew. She swore and clutched her forehead, her eyes watering. With eye contact broken the pain subsided, but as her eyes wandered over the sallow teacher Percy had named as Snape, another flash of pain set sparks to dancing in Harry’s vision and she doubled over in her seat. Stunned, Harry was only dislodged from her foggy reverie by a concerned Hermione gently shaking her shoulder. As ever Harry stiffened under the touch, and she turned hazy eyes on Hermione. “Harry, are you alright?” she murmured. “Everyone’s staring.”

Harry straightened up, straightening her hair and robes, and cast an embarrassed look around the table. “I’m fine. Sudden headache,” she lied, rubbing at her forehead one more time. However, her attack had disrupted the easy mood of the table and Percy stood, rubbing his palms together awkwardly. “Alright Gryffindors. First years, follow myself and Nomi please.” he instructed. The chatter in the hall was joined by the scraping of benches and clatter of shoes, as all the houses gradually formed into groups and the older students drifted off ahead of the first years. Harry glimpsed Padma as Percy led them past the Ravenclaws in the hallway and waved, receiving a slightly sad smile in return.

The little troupe of Gryffindors followed Percy Weasley and Nomi Eun, their fifth-year prefects, up numerous flights of unpredictably shifting stairs. The prefects explained that the shifting stairs was supposed to be a defence in case of attack, but that it made everyday navigation tough so they should be careful to leave extra time to get to class in case they were caught out.

Eventually they reached a landing and halted as the prefects faced the painting that graced it, a remarkably detailed old work of a fat, light-skinned woman with reddish fair hair and flowing pink dress robes of some light fabric, set in a wrought bronze frame. “Password?” She inquired of the prefects imperiously. Percy opened his mouth to respond, but Nomi beat him to it. “Caput Draconis,” she replied, and the painting swung aside to reveal a round hole in the wall. The first years filed through, the shorter ones such as Neville and Faye needing a hand, and all had their first glimpse of the Gryffindor common room as the heavy painting swung closed behind them.

The room was lit with candles, an enormous open hearth fireplace standing empty for use in colder weather. The furnishings were old-fashioned but well-made, the decor in shades of red with gold accents. Upon one wall was an enormous tapestry of a golden lion rampant on a red field, the house insignia; while the far wall was taken up with dark crimson curtains, closed now – but Harry guessed it would be a wonderfully-lit room for study in the daytime. The other students had retired to bed for the most part, but two older students rested on couches, studying. They closed their books and stood up when the first-years were led in, both wearing friendly smiles as they faced the students. “I’m Hollie Lamar,” a pretty girl with dark auburn hair and round wire-framed glasses introduced herself, “And I’m Lennox Zieliński.” her companion added, a handsome older boy with dark hair, strong features and a light lowlands Scottish accent. “We’re the sixth-year prefects,” Hollie continued, casting a dismissive glance at Percy in all his puffed-up self-importance. “You can come to either us or the fifth-year prefects if there’s any problems in the house, alright? Anyway, let’s get you all settled in to bed. Girls, with myself and Nomi. Boys, follow Lennox and Percy please.” she added on, sharing a chaste kiss with the boy – Lennox – before they parted and took up places on opposite sides of the room.

Harry, Hermione and Parvati made their way over to Hollie hesitantly, followed by Faye and Lavender with Nomi bringing up the rear. “Alright, girls. Probably a little early to be worrying about, but the stairs up to our dormitories are enchanted. Boys and men can’t get up – not even the teachers. So if any of your friends are boys, best tell them they can’t come knock on our doors if you’re late for class.” Nomi explained. Her words sent an anxious thrill through Harry, and she found herself turning to Hermione instinctively, as she had learned to do over the past month whenever faced with something frightening. If no boys could get in, what would the stairs consider Harry? What did the enchantment depend upon?

Hermione took Harry’s shaking hand in a gentle grip, and kept hold as the whole group followed Hollie and Nomi up the wooden staircase – this one, thankfully, not moving – to a hallway with a row of seven dormitories that extended around the tower. Harry felt warm inside again as she set foot on the landing of the hallway. The stairs let her up. Even stairs, enchanted by magicians of a bygone age, could recognise what so many refused to. Caught up in her joyful daze, Harry missed whatever the prefects said and found herself tripping over others as they started to move around her, tugged along behind Hermione as the five first-year girls headed for their new dormitory.

Inside was blissful quiet, dimly lit with a candle beside each bed. Each bed had a large trunk at the foot for keeping their possessions, which for now had been stowed neatly under their beds. Somebody had set up food and water for Calypso and another cat, while Calypso herself was curled up on what was clearly intended to be Harry’s bed. The beds were wonderful, a little larger than Harry was used to with drapes that could be pulled right around for privacy. Harry immediately set about getting ready for bed, anxiety about changing around the other girls rising in her as she fished her kitten pyjamas out of the trunk and settled on the bed; petting Callie’s ears thoughtfully. Making a decision on the matter, she pulled the scarlet drapes closed around her bed and changed in the blissful privacy they afforded her. She replaced them when she finished and settled into bed, laughing as the kitten insisted on crawling into bed with her as she often did. “Night, everyone,” she mumbled sleepily before blowing out the candle beside her bed. Others chorused their wishes of good dreams, somebody swore as they knocked over a candle (luckily without setting a fire), and the room descended into quiet as slowly, the girls drifted off to sleep.

Perhaps Harry had eaten too much at dinner, or maybe it was just first-day nerves. Either way her sleep was disturbed with bizarre nightmares, both Quirrell and Snape’s faces flashing before her dreaming eyes as pain split her scar again, and again, mutterings of destiny and darkness crowding her ears. They fell silent with an explosion of green and a piercing woman’s scream that frightened Harry into wakefulness. Reassured by the kitten’s warm presence under her chin, she drifted back to sleep and when she awoke the next day, she had no memory of the dreams.