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The entrance hall was big enough to hold the Dursleys entire house and, like Gringotts, lit with torches. I couldn't quite decide if it was for historical accuracy or for ambiance. After all, wizards were apparently still working with quills, so it could go either way. A grand marble staircase led to the upper floors, the ceiling soaring high overhead.
Hundreds of voices poured from a large room to the right, but McGonagall guided us all across the hall into a small, empty chamber. We were crammed together, staring around nervously. I pressed closer to Harry and felt him curl his fingers around the sleeve of my robe. I slid my hand into my pocket and curled my fingers around my wand. The feel of my brother at my side and my wand in my pocket helped me straighten up my back and banish some of my nerves.
McGonagall stood in front of the door, her hands folded in front of her. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she began. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
Her eyes lingered on Ron's dirty nose and Neville, whose cloak was buttoned under his left ear. Her eyes also passed over Harry's messy hair and landed pointedly on mine falling in my face for a moment.
"I shall return when we're ready for you," McGonagall said. "Please wait quietly."
She swept from the room. Harry leaned over to Ron, whispering, "How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked. I'd been wondering that myself. Did we draw one out of a hat? Did the houses request we join them? Or was it something a little more magical?
"Some kind of test," Ron replied uncertainly. "Fred was going on about how it hurts a lot, but I'm pretty sure he was joking."
I scowled. A test in front of the whole school? Throw us to the sharks why don't we? If we do poorly, that sets the tone for the rest of the year. People would expect us to be failures, and then they'd-
I let out a yelp. Twenty ghosts had streamed through the back of the wall, deep in conversation. They all wore clothes that were at least three centuries old, most of them older than that. They drifted along, pearl-colored and slightly transparent. They didn't seem to take any notice of us, too involved in their argument.
"Forgive and forget, I say, we should give him another chance-" said a fat little monk.
A man in a starched white ruff replied, "My dear friar, we've given Peeves all the chances he deserves. He gives us all a bad name, you know, and he's not even a real ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?"
He finally seemed to notice us. No one responded to him though. I think we were all still to thrown by the sudden arrival of a gaggle of ghosts to really think about having a nice chat with one of them.
"New students!" the fat friar greeted happily. "About to be Sorted!" A few people nodded mutely in response, jaws slack. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff, my old house!"
"Move along." McGonagall had returned. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
She ordered us into a line as the ghosts drifted out of the room through a wall. Harry stood behind a sandy-haired boy and I was behind him. Ron was behind me, following closely enough that he nearly trod on the hem of my robes three times before we even reached the doors to the Great Hall.
It was gorgeous. Thousands of candles levitated over four long tables where the students sat. The tables gleamed with gold place settings. At the top was another long table where the teachers sat. I recognized Dumbledore from his Chocolate Frog card, and there was an empty seat beside him that I assumed was McGonagall's. I also spotted Hagrid, who caught my eye and waved. Professor Quirrell was looking twitchy as ever and sporting a large purple turban. Above us, the ceiling was lost in velvety blackness dotted with stars. I remembered glancing over something about that in Hogwarts: A History. Supposedly the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the weather. I couldn't wait to see it blazing with sunlight, or maybe even gently snowing in the winter.
McGonagall lined us up in front of the head table, our faces to the students. They all watched interestedly. I could see Fred and George waving at us cheerfully from a table filled with reed and gold badges. Percy was pursing his lips irritably next to them and hissing at them, probably telling them to stop.
I lowered my face, hiding a smile. I was suddenly incredibly glad that we'd met Fred and George at the station. Having a couple of friendly faces out in the students made it infinitely easier to stand in front of them with at least a little bit of confidence.
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