They waited for about three minutes before the doors opened, revealing an extremely stern-looking witch. She looked at them for a few moments before turning to the giant who had accompanied them thus far.
"The first-years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant.
"Thank you very much, Hagrid. I'll take care of it from here," the woman said. Immediately after, she turned to them and added, "Follow me, please."
The entire group hurried to keep pace with the teacher, who walked with a swift and purposeful stride, waiting for no one. None of them had the opportunity to observe the castle thoroughly; their sole focus was on keeping the woman in sight, lest they become utterly lost. At last, she led them to a room near the main doors and the Great Hall, which they glimpsed faintly. Once they were all inside, the woman turned to look at them, and her expression made it clear that it was unwise to cross her; she was not someone to displease.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. I'm Professor McGonagall. In a few moments, you will enter the Great Hall where the Sorting Ceremony will take place, and you will be sorted into one of our four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin. While you are here, your houses will be your family. You will sleep in dormitories alongside your housemates, and your free time will be spent in your common room. Your achievements will earn points for your house, while misbehaviour will result in deductions. At the end of the term, the house that accumulates the most points will win the House Cup, a great honour. Now, I advise you to prepare yourselves while we finish making the final arrangements for the ceremony." With that, she surveyed them all before exiting.
Nerves ran high among all the new students, as they pondered which house they would be sorted into, and by what method. Many conjectured it would be an impromptu examination, prompting Hermione to frantically review all the spells she had learned, while a red-haired boy repeatedly insisted his older brothers had told him he would have to wrestle a troll. However, all conjecture ceased abruptly when a group of ghosts glided through a wall at the rear, eliciting startled screams from everyone. Harry surmised they had appeared to catch a glimpse of the new students, just as the ghost of a friar expressed his hope that they would all end up in Hufflepuff, his old house.
When Professor McGonagall returned a few minutes later, she led them into the Great Hall with the same swift, determined stride, oblivious to the group behind her who were staring in utter amazement at their surroundings. The best word to describe it was magnificent, especially the ceiling, which was enchanted to mirror the sky outside and appeared to be an extension of it.
They passed directly in front of a stool upon which rested a very old, battered hat. Honestly, anyone else would have discarded such a poor hat and purchased a new one. Amidst a hushed silence and palpable expectation, the new students waited to see what would transpire. Their surprise was considerable, therefore, when a tear in the hat formed into the shape of a mouth and began to sing, describing the qualities of each house and explaining that they would be sorted by placing the hat upon their heads, with the hat itself deciding their destination.
Professor McGonagall began calling names from a lengthy parchment list, and the new students were sorted into their respective houses. Terry was sorted into Ravenclaw, as he had hoped, while Hermione and Neville were sent to Gryffindor. When Harry's name was called, he approached the stool with a trembling step. Then, with a nervous sigh, he sat down and placed the hat upon his head.
"AHH... WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? YOU HAVE A LOT OF TALENT, DID YOU KNOW THAT?" a voice said in his head. "NO, YOU DIDN'T KNOW, THOUGH YOU SUSPECTED YOU WERE NOT QUITE ORDINARY. LET'S SEE WHAT WE HAVE HERE... YOU ARE CUNNING, WHEN YOU CHOOSE TO BE; THAT WOULD MAKE SLYTHERIN THE IDEAL HOUSE FOR YOU. BUT YOU LACK AMBITION, AND YOUR GREAT HONESTY MEANS YOU RARELY EMPLOY IT. YOU ARE ALSO BRAVE, THERE IS NO DOUBT, BUT YOU TEND TO THINK BEFORE YOU ACT... YOU LOVE BOOKS WITH ALL YOUR HEART, AND THAT MAKES YOU A TRUE RAVENCLAW... BUT WITHOUT A DOUBT, WHAT CHARACTERISES YOU MOST IS YOUR LOYALTY AND YOUR WILLPOWER TO WORK HARD AND PATIENTLY... YES, YOU WILL DEFINITELY GO TO... HUFFLEPUFF!"
When Harry removed the hat, he was met with the stunned silence of the Great Hall as everyone watched in amazement while he walked to the Hufflepuff table and took a seat. He knew why they stared at him thus: he was the first Potter in many generations who hadn't ended up in Gryffindor, and no one had considered it a possibility. Tremulously, one of the kind-faced teachers began to clap her hands, and was soon followed by the Hufflepuff table, and then the rest of the Great Hall. After his sorting, the remaining students were sorted into the four houses without any further complications.
Next to Harry sat all the first-year students, who kindly introduced themselves to one another and explained where they hailed from. As far as Harry could discern, there had been nine students sorted into Hufflepuff that year: four girls and five boys, including himself. They were Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Julia Bullivier, Athena Owen, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Zacharias Smith, and Jonathan Miller. All of them seemed genuinely excited and chattered incessantly, though they fell silent when the Headmaster rose to speak.
"Good evening, and welcome back to Hogwarts for another year. I am delighted to see all our students returned to us. I must remind you that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, forbidden to all students. Some of our older students would do well to remember that." (Here he looked at a pair of redheads sitting at the Gryffindor table.) "Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, asks me to remind you that magic is forbidden in the corridors, and that the list of forbidden items now numbers three hundred and forty-seven. Now, enjoy!"
The golden plates immediately filled with food, and everyone began to help themselves as various conversations resumed. At the Hufflepuff table, a conversation began among the first-years about their genealogies.
"It's the first time I've seen so much magic... I saw a little in Diagon Alley, but this is something else entirely..." said Justin.
"You're a Muggle-born, aren't you?" asked Ernie.
"What's wrong with that?" asked Justin.
"Nothing's wrong, but it would be better if it wasn't widely known," Harry said. "The political situation isn't ideal for shouting it from the rooftops."
"'What... what do you mean?' Justin stammered, while practically everyone at the table cast venomous glances at Harry.
"What I mean is that we are in the midst of a war. There's a group of wizards led by someone called Voldemort –" (here, several screams and shudders rippled through the group) "– who maintain that Muggle-born children shouldn't come to Hogwarts. If it were only that, it wouldn't be so bad, but they routinely attack and kill in what amount to terrorist attacks against all those they don't consider pure enough, or those who support Muggle-borns. Since no one knows who is part of the group, it's quite possible that many students here are relatives of one of them."
Harry was cut off by the vast majority of the first-years, who cast angry glances at him. Many reproached him for having spoken of it and for having frightened them. Despite their reactions, Harry remained obstinate.
"'I don't know why you're making such a fuss,' Athena complained. 'Sooner or later, they would have to know, and it's better that it be sooner rather than later. The sooner you're warned, the quicker you can avoid making a blunder in front of one of the pure-blood fanatics.'"
"Would you have preferred they found out when some black mail arrives for one of the students?"
"'Black mail?' Justin asked, looking frightened.
"It's when you receive an owl carrying a black envelope... those are what the Ministry typically uses to inform someone that their family has died," Harry explained. "I've seen many; my family has always opposed Voldemort."
After that, they all changed the subject, but it was too late. Within the first-year cohort, two distinct groups had already formed: Harry, Athena, and Jonathan, who refused to ignore the threat posed by the Dark Lord; and the rest, who preferred to forget what was happening. By the time dinner concluded, a palpable emptiness had settled between them. They largely ignored one another, exchanging barely a few words as they followed the prefect who was to lead them to their common room – a boy named Mark Watson.
They were all so exhausted that they practically overlooked all the wonders they passed in the corridors; they paid no heed to the portraits, nor to the grand stained-glass windows. They passed through three concealed doors and ascended two staircases before passing a statue of a Kneazel.
"'Vitae,' the prefect announced."
With that, the statue slid aside, and an opening, similar to those found in Diagon Alley, began to form before them. The prefect stepped through the newly revealed passage, and the others followed him, arriving in a square room adorned in shades of yellow and brown, their house colours. Several comfortable sofas and armchairs were arranged throughout the room, and a welcoming, lit fireplace cast a warm glow.
"'This is our common room,' Mark explained. 'To access it, you will have to speak the password, which, as you've seen, is "Vitae," in front of the statue. The password will change periodically, so always ensure you know the current one. The dormitories are up those stairs: the boys' on the left, the girls' on the right.'"
With that, Mark allowed the first-years to ascend their respective staircases to bed. After all the day's excitement, they were utterly exhausted. Most of them collapsed into their respective beds, barely conscious enough to change into their pyjamas before falling asleep. Harry, for his part, reacted differently. To begin with, he took a thorough look at what his dormitory would be like and who his roommates would be.
The dormitory, like the common room, was square and decorated in shades of yellow and brown, featuring five beds with canopies and brown curtains. The fifth bed was along one of the walls, right next to the window, and he soon discovered that this was his.
Eagerly anticipating the next day so he could begin his classes, he went to bed with a wide smile. He hoped that everything would be fine from then on.
The following morning, accustomed as he was to rising early (so he could complete all his tasks before Brian awoke), he woke quite early compared to the rest of the dormitory. With a brisk step, he gathered his things before heading to the en-suite bathroom of the dormitory to prepare for the day. He undressed and stepped under the hot water, relaxing before the day that awaited him. He washed himself efficiently, carefully passing over his upper left chest, where the tattoo of a white phoenix was located.
While he showered, he pondered how he had acquired it, a little over a month ago. It had been the night of his birthday, after the fantastic day he had spent with Remus and enduring his father's inspection for something unnecessary (or, in other words, anything non-mandatory that Brian wished to acquire), he had retired to his room to inspect everything and prepare for bed. He was preparing to take a shower when he felt an incredibly sharp pain in his upper left chest. It was an unbearable pain, which almost made him scream, lasting only a few moments before disappearing as quickly as it had come, leaving him with a sensation of residual soreness. He went to the shower as quickly as he could, and once he had removed his clothes, there, on his chest, was the tattoo of a beautiful white phoenix. Later, he discovered that when he was near his wand or held it in his hand, the tattoo seemed to vibrate as a sense of peace and incredible happiness spread across his body. He thus came to the conclusion that his own wand had done it to him. It had been tender and sore for a couple of weeks, and now, he simply had a strange sensation when he touched it.
He sighed and stepped out of the shower, only to find Jonathan standing before him, observing him intently. For a moment, Harry was startled, unsure of how to react. He was vaguely aware of a sensation that coursed through his body, demanding that no one see the strange tattoo. He was about to make an excuse and cover himself as quickly as he could (even though Jonathan had already seen it) when the other boy cut him off.
"'Good morning.'"
"'Oh... good morning.'"
"'You're up early, aren't you?'"
"'Ah... yes, I'm just used to it.'"
Harry watched nervously as his roommate prepared to take a shower, expecting him to comment on the tattoo at any moment. But when five minutes passed and Jonathan still hadn't said anything, he relaxed.
"'You have a rather nice tattoo on your chest,' Jonathan remarked casually as he stepped out of the shower. 'I didn't think there were parents who would allow their eleven-year-old son to get a tattoo.'"
"'My parents don't know,' Harry muttered truthfully, deciding it would be best to tell him the truth."
"'I was going to say that no matter how famous James Potter is for being a bit of a free spirit, I didn't think he'd allow his son to get a tattoo... How did you manage to get it without them noticing?'"
"'It's just... I didn't get it done; it appeared on my birthday. I still don't know how.'"
"'Hmm... A magical tattoo? Curious. Not many like this usually appear, and certainly never on children,' Jonathan mused with a chuckle. 'Besides, it's an unusual design. Obviously, it's a phoenix, but I've never seen a white phoenix before.'"
"'Me neither.'"
"'I wonder what it means...'"
"'What?'"
"'These tattoos always have a meaning... usually a facet of the wearer's personality.'"
"'You know a lot about this, don't you?'"
"'I love this topic,' he explained. 'I read about it years ago in an article in The Quibbler, and since then I've been researching information.'"
Harry looked at him in amazement, unsure whether to believe him or not. The Quibbler was renowned for its lack of credibility, but if Jonathan had indeed sought out further information, Harry supposed there might be some truth to it.
"'I suppose you don't want others to know, do you?' As Harry shook his head, Jonathan added, 'I thought as much. Except for a couple of individuals, most people who have had a magical tattoo appear have kept it a secret.' After a brief pause, he added, 'How about we head down for breakfast? I don't know about you, but I don't remember the way to the Great Hall, and we'll surely end up lost.'"