The carriage came to a halt in front of the oak doors, and Hodge Blackthorn stepped down alongside the others.
As soon as they entered the Great Hall, they were greeted with a less-than-warm welcome. Peeves, the castle's mischievous poltergeist, had suspended himself from the ceiling of the entrance hall, his tongue lolling out dramatically. He swung back and forth, gleefully shaking caterpillars from his pockets onto the students passing below, who shrieked and scrambled to avoid them.
"Peeves, watch out, or Professor McGonagall will dock you points. Imagine that—you spent a thousand years earning a measly ten-point reward," Hodge said, his words cutting deep.
Taking advantage of Peeves' momentary shock, the group hurried past. The Great Hall was ablaze with light, its four long tables lined with gleaming metal cutlery. Above, hundreds of magical candles flickered, and the enchanted ceiling sparkled with a starry sky.
Soon, the tables were filled with students.
The hum of conversation filled the air. Hodge spotted familiar faces, including members of the Whimsy Club: third-years Bradley and Chanders, his own classmates Stephen Cornfoot and Lisa Turpin, and others who'd only attended a few meetings, like Ernie, Justin, Padma Patil, and her sister Parvati. Cho Chang and her friends were there too, all looking a bit older after the summer break.
At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy held court, pontificating loudly. His two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, had changed noticeably: one had bulked up, looking like he could take up boxing; the other had shot up in height, somehow appearing even dimmer. Nearby sat Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson, who was chatting with a green-haired girl. The girl, however, seemed uninterested, her eyes repeatedly darting toward the small door at the side of the hall.
Some familiar faces were missing. Hodge scanned the Ravenclaw table, noting the absence of a few older students from the Midnight Gatherings, like Shackle, who was likely now working at the Beast Division. Hodge spared two seconds to wish him luck, hoping he wasn't already wrestling trolls at the Ministry.
His attention was soon drawn to a flamboyant figure—Gilderoy Lockhart.
Lockhart swept in, dressed to impress in a flowing turquoise robe and a gold-trimmed hat. He waved to the crowd, flashing a dazzling smile and subtly showing off the trinkets dangling from his waist. After catching a few students' eyes, he made a theatrical gesture to cover his belt, as if guarding a secret.
"Did you see that little vial?" someone whispered. "I bet it's worth a fortune!"
"Shouldn't we be more curious about what's in it?"
"I'd wager it's an antidote," Terry said. "He's the Defense Against the Dark Arts master, after all. Carrying an antidote makes sense." He turned to Hodge. "What do you think?"
"Breath freshener or hair conditioner," Hodge replied without missing a beat.
Terry looked stunned.
The mystery was quickly solved. As Lockhart sat down, he pulled out the gold-trimmed vial and spritzed himself twice. A vibrant emerald mist enveloped him, prompting the professors on either side to edge their chairs away.
"Perfume," Michael Corner muttered.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall led a long line of first-years through the side door. She placed a three-legged stool in front of the staff table and set a tattered, patched wizard's hat atop it—the Sorting Hat.
"What's that?" Michael Corner said. "From this angle, they just look like a bunch of tiny radishes… Were we like that back then?"
No one responded.
As the Sorting Hat began its song, Hodge studied the new students. He recognized Luna and Ginny but drew a blank on most of the others. He tried to guess their future houses based on their clothes and demeanor.
"Does it feel like there are more first-years this year than last?" Anthony Goldstein said, frowning.
"Really?" Terry asked, clapping enthusiastically.
The Sorting Hat had just delivered a terrible joke: when the castle was built, Gryffindor suggested fireplaces for every common room. The other founders disagreed, insisting magic could keep them warm. In protest, Slytherin moved to the damp dungeons to live with the lake fish, Ravenclaw soared to the highest tower for fresh breezes, and Hufflepuff built a cozy cave next to the food stores.
Hodge hadn't attended last year's Sorting, but based on shared classes with other houses, he estimated there were about twenty more students this year.
"Student numbers vary every year," Cho Chang said nearby. "A senior once told me there was a year when Ravenclaw only had single-digit first-years."
Hodge nodded. That made sense.
When the Sorting Hat finished its song, the hall fell silent. McGonagall unfurled a parchment scroll and began calling names in alphabetical order.
"Elsie Allain."
A boy stepped forward, trembling as he put on the Sorting Hat. After a moment, it bellowed, "Gryffindor!" He stood, looking dazed, until McGonagall directed him toward the table with the loudest applause, where Percy Weasley was the first to welcome him. The Sorting continued smoothly:
"Kieran Harper."
"Slytherin!"
"Colin Creevey."
"Gryffindor!"
"Luna Lovegood."
"Ravenclaw!"
Each new student was met with enthusiastic applause. The line dwindled until only a dozen remained. Ginny's red hair stood out in the crowd. McGonagall called the next name:
"Lottie Turner."
A frail, slender girl stepped forward, her shoulder-length, slightly frizzy brown curls bouncing. Lottie sat on the stool, one hand steadying the Sorting Hat. A smudge of colorful paint stained the back of her hand as she gazed curiously at the floating candles.
"Hufflepuff!" the Sorting Hat declared.
Beaming, she hurried to the Hufflepuff table.
"Ginny Weasley—"
As the Sorting neared its end, Professor Snape swept in, his black robes billowing. He approached McGonagall, and after a brief, hushed exchange, her expression darkened. She strode to the staff table to speak with Dumbledore, who listened intently.
Hodge knew exactly what they were discussing: Harry and Ron's stunt of flying a car across half of Britain, likely making local Muggle news. The other students, unaware, didn't dwell on McGonagall's abrupt exit. When the Sorting concluded and Dumbledore announced the feast, they eagerly dug in, too hungry to care. Dumbledore soon left as well.
Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were far less fortunate.
They sat in a dimly lit underground classroom—Snape's office, decorated in true Slytherin and Potions Master style: dark, chilly, with shelves lined with jars of preserved animal specimens. Harry caught sight of a yellow eye floating in one and felt his stomach churn.
The door opened. They tensed, expecting no reprieve, as McGonagall entered, her face stern and lips pressed into a thin line. They managed a few stammered words before falling silent. Soon, Dumbledore joined them. Harry tried to explain, his words faltering, followed by a long, dreadful silence.
Harry had never felt so humiliated. If he could make amends, he'd do anything, no matter the cost.
A knock at the door broke the tension. Professor Flitwick, looking nervous, called Dumbledore away. To their relief, Dumbledore didn't prolong the verdict.
"I won't expel you. Not this time. But you must understand the gravity of your actions. I'll be writing to your families tonight, and I warn you: if this happens again, I will have no choice but to expel you," Dumbledore said calmly. "Minerva, you'll decide their punishment." Snape started to protest, but Dumbledore cut him off, ushering him out.
"Severus, let's go greet them."
Snape looked distinctly unwilling.
"Who—"
"Come along."
The door closed. Harry and Ron exchanged stunned glances, hardly believing their luck. They turned to McGonagall, but she wasn't in the mood to talk, her eyes glaring daggers.
"You'd better visit the infirmary, Weasley. You're bleeding," she said after a long pause.
"It's nothing," Ron said, wiping blood from a cut above his eye, a souvenir from crashing into a Whomping Willow at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Professor McGonagall, I wanted to see my sister's Sorting—"
"The ceremony is over," McGonagall said. "She was sorted into Ravenclaw."
"Oh, great—what?!"
————
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