"Firs' years this way! Firs' years!" calls a huge, bushy man. I shuffle towards him- I think he might be Hagrid. Ava marches ahead. Eventually we have a whole year's worth gathered round and we head off in the direction of the lake. Hagrid loads us into boats- two per boat. I go with Ava and take the oars. Slowly, the tiny rowing boat proceeds into the centre of the pitch-black lake. Suddenly, I see something. Something long. Something grey. I scream.

"What the beep's the matter with you?" Ava yells at me.

"Th-th-there's a monster in the lake!" I stutter.

"It's the giant squid you idiot!" shouts Ava. "Calm down! You're rocking the boat!"

She grabs the oars from me and rows all the way to the other side. As she lands the boat, Hagrid rushes over and takes us both out. I realise I'm shaking all over with fright.

"Well done!" Hagrid says to Ava. "Tha' was fast!"

"I once went to sea cadets" explains Ava.

I stand on the bank, trembling. Hagrid takes me to the Hospital wing to calm down, but Matron wants nothing to do with me.

"No!" she snaps at Hagrid, shaking her head vigorously. "The girl needs to get sorted!"

Hagrid sighs and takes me to the entrance hall where the rest of the year is.

"What are we waiting for?" I whisper to Ava, several minutes of searching for her later.

"A teacher." she whispers back.

"Oh!" I whisper in reply, just as one comes in. He is tall and slightly nervous-looking with brown hair.

"Good evening first-years! Welcome to Hogwarts!" he says. "I am Professor Longbottom, head of Gryffindor and your herbology teacher. Now any questions before we go in?" Half the year put their hand up. "Not including questions about autographs and Harry Potter's address?" Everyone puts their hand back down. "OK, then, let's go in!" he says and leads us into a huge and magnificent hall. I realise that this is the great hall as there seems to be no ceiling- just sky.

All the first-years stand in a clump in one corner of the hall. Professor Longbottom takes a long list out of his pocket and begins to call out names.

"Abercombe, Zoe!"

A short, stout girl with wavy, blonde hair comes up. Then I notice it. The hat.

"Isn't the hat supposed to sing some song or other?" I whisper to Ava.

"It's been let off this year because some prankster or other jinxed it to sing something rather rude last time." she whispers back. "The teachers had to do a muffling charm over the school until it'd finished"

"Hufflepuff!" shouts the hat suddenly. The yellow table on the far left of the hall bursts into ecstatic cheering.

"Baker, June!" calls Professor Longbottom. A girl who seems to be the shortest girl in the whole year shoves her way from the middle of the group, causing yelps of pain from those who she bashes with her elbows. She has black hair in a pixie cut and piercing green eyes that remind me of a cat. A couple of minutes later she's sorted into Slytherin.

"Bakes, Luke!", a tall boy with ginger hair is sorted into Hufflepuff. Then it's the turn of "Black, Violet!". When she steps out, a few people shove their neighbours and point. I soon see why. She is tall and thin with brown hair and mysterious grey eyes that seem to see right into your soul. Her purple slim-framed glasses perch on her nose like a mountain goat on a mountain- with perfect ease. But the thing that caused the pointing is not her eyes or her glasses, her height or her figure. It is a purple streak through her hair. But that is not all. It doesn't look dyed. It looks magical, as if it was some sort of magical incident that created it. Violet sits down. The hat is put on her head and the waiting begins. Five minutes later Ava turns to me.

"She's a hatstall!" she whispers.

"What's that?" I ask in a whisper.

"It's when the hat takes longer than five minutes to sort you."

I nod and turn to see Violet shaking her head violently. She stops and three minutes later the hat makes a decision.

"RAVENCLAW!"

At that moment the blue table erupts into loud whoops of joy as Violet walks over.

Then it's my turn.

***Violet***

I walk over to the Ravenclaw table. That was nearly a disaster. Good job I managed to convince the hat, or I would be going towards sneering Slytherins. But still, that was embracing. That was so embracing. It's not my fault I have purple hair, but then they don't know that. Actually, I would rather they never found out. I sink into a chair and wish the earth would swallow me up.

"Hello!" cheerfully says a ginger-haired third-year with freckles. "I'm Gred and that's my brother Forge." He points at an identical first-year. "My mother took one look at me and thought of Fred and George." He groans. I smile. "Anyway, what's your name?"

"Violet," I reply.

"Ah, you're the one who just got sorted." he says, nodding knowingly. "Nice hair, by the way. Suits you." I blush and turn to where "Cod, Amelia!"- an average sort of girl with jet-black hair and sapphire-blue eyes is being sorted.

"Where d'you think she'll go?" asks Forge, interrupting my thoughts.

"Hufflepuff?" suggests Gred.

"Ravenclaw, obviously!" I decide.

"We'll see..." says Gred, grinning mischievously.

"Oh Gred, don't tell me you're about to charm the hat again!" sighs Forge. "You remember what happened in our first year to poor old Veruca Salt!"

"Poor? Veruca? You must be kidding me."

"Well, poor Hufflepuff. She was obviously supposed to go in Slytherin!"

"Well... I had a bet..."

"Good grief Gred! It doesn't matter if you had a bet! You're not supposed to make one in the first place!"

"Well-"

"And let's not start on last year! I'm pretty sure that some of the teachers didn't know some of the words to the song you made the hat sing!"

"Now that's an overstatement!"

"Well, maybe, but still! And anyway, what am I doing telling you off? I'm supposed to be your older brother!"

"Don't ask me that! And only by two seconds! Anyway, the most important thing is that I didn't get caught."

"RAVENCLAW!" suddenly cries the hat, interrupting their argument. Gred looks hard-done-by.

"Oh now look what you've done..." he mutters.

"So, how did you come to be Gred and Forge instead of Fred and George?" I ask, changing the subject as Amelia sits down.

"Our parents have a sense of humour." grimaces Forge, making me laugh.

"Hello!" Gred says suddenly.

"What, had a memory wipe? I sat down ages ago!" I tease.

"Not you." grumbles Gred, turning to Amelia. "You're Amelia aren't you?" she nods, shyly. "Well then: hello, Amelia" He glares at me.

"Hello!" I say, grinning. Then, seeing that Amelia wants to be left alone and that Gred and Forge are talking to other third-years, I turn to watch the sorting.

"Mathews, Matthew!"

"What an unfortunate name" I think as I watch him (tall boy with brown hair and eyes) climb onto the platform. The hat barely touches his head when it yells "GRYFFINDOR!". The red table bursts into whoops and wolf-whistles. I glance at it and realise that no first-years have actually been sorted into Gryffindor yet. Weird.

"Mulberry, Matilda!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Niance, Camilo!"

At the name Camilo, Amelia looks up and watches as the handsome boy with sleek brown hair and dark green eyes that you could get lost in sits down. The hat is placed on his head.

"Gryffindor?" I suggest, smiling cheekily at Gred.

"Nah, it's impossible for that many Gryffindors to be in a row. I think he's a Ravenclaw." Gred growls. "And this time..." he reaches for his wand.

"Oh, of course! GRYFFINDOR!" exclaims the hat. Gred looks furious. I giggle.

"Simpson, Ava!"

A strawberry blonde girl with blue eyes and freckles sits down. Then I realise who she is. Ava Simpson. The Ava Simpson. My nemesis since we first met in kindergarden. I glare at her as the hat is placed on her head.