‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - ✦ - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

THE DOOR swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Layla's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

      “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

      “Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

      She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Campbell's country house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

      They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Layla could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here  — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall.

They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

      “Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “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 rulebreaking 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 for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on
another redhead's smudged nose. Layla nervously fixed up her hair.

      “I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

      She left the chamber. Layla swallowed.

      “How exactly do they sort us into houses?” she asked Anthony.

“They read your mind.”

Padma stared and blinked twice. Layla stifled a laugh.

“I’m just joking. How else would they know what you want?”

“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”, the group overheard the ginger with the smudged (well, not so smudged now) nose say.

      Layla's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? Sure , she's practiced a couple of spells but a quiz on arrival? She looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except a bushy haired girl, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learned and wondering which one she’d need. (The almost lookalike redhead looked so ready to scare the brunette with her eyes).

Layla tried hard not to listen to
her. She’d never been more nervous, never, not even when she’d had to take a school report home to the family saying that she’d somehow taken the lectionary without actually taking it. She kept her eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead her to her doom.

      Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air — several people behind her screamed.

      “What the —?”

She gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —”

      “My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?” A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

      “New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

      A few people nodded mutely.

      “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you know.”

      “Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

      Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

      “Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.”

      Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to wood, Layla got into line with her almost lookalike, with a platinum blonde girl behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Layla had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Layla looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.
She heard the brunette whisper, “Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History.”

Thanks for the knowledge, Protagoras, Layla glared.

      It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open on to the heavens. Layla quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

Nahida would love to place things there! Imagine a random scarab coming out of that hat!, Layla thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing — noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, she stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat 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 folk 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 whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

      “So we’ve just got to try on the hat!”, the ginger whispered to the black haired boy with bright green eyes. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

Anthony, who must have heard him, chuckled.

Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but she did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a
lot; Layla didn’t feel loyal or cunning or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for her.

      Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said.

“Abbott, Hannah!”

      A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause —

      “HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

      The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Layla saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

      “Bones, Susan!”

      “HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

      “Boot, Terry!”

      “RAVENCLAW!”

      The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

“Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but “Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Layla could see the pair of mischievous ginger twins catcalling. “Bulstrode, Millicent” then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Layla's imagination, after all she’d heard about Slytherin, but she thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.

“Campbell, Layla!”

Layla's eyes shot a little wide, then composed herself. She walked towards the front, giving a subtle glance at Anthony and the Patil twins, and almost tripped on a stair before sitting on the stool.

The last thing Layla saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.

      “Hmm,” said a small voice in her ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, my goodness, yes —”

Layla hissed. Her necklace was acting up again, just like the time she met Professor Quirrell. Oh bloody helium, he's here but… there should be more to it right?

      She gripped the edges of the stool and thought,  but what was there to think about? She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. For an untold reason, she was looking beyond the blackness of the hat, instead facing the velvet ceiling of the school. While she could still hear the hat (no doubt confused) mumbling its thoughts, she was focusing on a frame just behind a teacher in black robes—

A figure popped out from behind the portrait; black as ink and monstrous too, with a pair of yellow eyes that sometimes shifted to blue green. It appeared to have been submerged in water of some sort, because it sported nasty wounds on its segmented body. It stared at her with a malignant sort of fury, and for a few seconds, she saw her little sister reflected in its irises. Layla swore that thing had a darkness about it that was deeper than the Mariana's Trench — and that she may not wish to know about.

      “Ah, very perceptive, eh?” said the small voice, which snapped her out of the trance.. “Not even the cleverest Gryffindor is capable of defeating that which lies behind the portrait.”

Layla tilted her head, and she felt Professor McGonagall adjust the hat. Is this a warning? Maybe God does have His ways.

“In that case — better be RAVENCLAW!”

Layla heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Ravenclaw table. She was so relieved that the thing didn't outright attack her (probably fearful of the lights and the people), that she didn't realize how Anthony was giving her a worried glance.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”

      “HUFFLEPUFF!”

      Sometimes, Layla noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus,” the sandy-haired boy next to the boy with green eyes in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

“Goldstein, Anthony!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

Wow, that was quick, Layla thought, waving her hand for her friend to come sit with her. Anthony had all but tan off to the table decked in blue and bronze, then happily plopped down next to her, all smiles.

“Did you see it?”, she whispered.

“Yeah. But let's not discuss that here.”

“Granger, Hermione!”

      The bushy brunette almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

      “GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

“Greengrass, Daphne”, the platinum blonde girl that had been next to Layla in the line, became a Slytherin. When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted,
“GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to “MacDougal, Morag.”  Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!” Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

      There weren’t many people left now. “Moon”… , “Nott”… , “Parkinson”… , then the Indian twins, Padma (Ravenclaw, much to Layla’s delight) and Parvati (Gryffindor), then “Perks, Sally-Anne”… , and then, at last —

      “Potter, Harry!”

      As Harry, the boy with green eyes stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

      “Potter, did she say?”

      “The Harry Potter?”

After much waiting, the hat declared him a Gryffindor, and Layla heard the ginger twins yell, “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

“Potter, Jasmine!”

Now that made Layla stand up. Jasmine was clearly just as nervous as her brother had been, but the peculiar thing about her (aside from looking almost alike) was that she had a companion with her but she couldn't see who it was. Layla had to sit back down to avoid the potential embarrassment, and she was even more grateful for not standing out, because the hat declared Jasmine a Ravenclaw, which gave her a couple of interesting ideas.

“Is Layla, Jasmine's twin sister?”, joked an upperclassmen as Jasmine came to sit right beside Layla. Padma giggled, and waved at the slightly confused Potter girl.

“Nope. Jasmine looks more aristocratic — no offense Layla, and her eyes are green and gold to Layla's blue.”

“And I have this.”, Layla added, pulling out her medallion from underneath her blouse. It shone silvery in the light, and she took a mental note to display it above her necktie.

She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest her sat an unknown professor, with unusually large glasses and frizzy hair. And there, in the center of the High Table,
in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts (and her medallion). Layla spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban, and to add heat to the situation —  pun intended — her medallion’s temperature rose ever so slightly.

      And now there were only three people left to be sorted. “Thomas, Dean,” a Black boy even taller than the youngest Weasley, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. “Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it
was Ron’s turn. He looked so prepared to puke but then,  a second later the hat had shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

She noticed that Jasmine was feeling uncomfortable as “Zabini, Blaise,”
was made a Slytherin and Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore then got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. Layla, who was keeping an eye on the peculiar portrait behind the teacher in black, narrowed her eyes.

      “Welcome,” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! “

Layla crossed her arms, and glanced at both Padma and Anthony, who had similar looks of disgust on their faces.

“Thank you!”

      He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Layla firmly decided that she didn't like this mam, and it appeared that Jasmine Potter agreed.

      “Is he — that oblivious?” she asked Anthony with disbelief.

“Oblivious?” scoffed a girl who kind of looked East Asian airily. “He’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit oblivious, yes. Potatoes, Campbell?”

Layla's mouth fell open (and it wasn't because of the food). The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. Sure, her family had those parties once in a while, but the food was never as varied as this one. Layla piled her plate with small portions of everything except for the Yorkshire pudding and smiled at how everything was delicious.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor one could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

As Layla helped herself to three large scoops of raspberry ice cream, the talk turned to their families.

“I’m pureblood, but I have a Squib uncle. He's a priest now. Didn't know about him 'till very recently." said Anthony, who gave Layla a wink.

“I have a step-sister who's hopefully starting Hogwarts next year. Interesting girl who likes philosophy and Egyptian mythology too much. She apparently threw a scarab at a god.”

Jasmine's ears perked up at the information. Layla observed her looking sideways to talk to an invisible friend, then next second Jasmine was staring daggers at her. Strange.

Layla, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid, the man who led the boats, was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

      It happened very suddenly. The black clad teacher looked past Quirrell’s turban straight into Jasmine — and a sharp, hot pain shot across her medallion.

      “Ouch!” Layla clapped a hand to her necklace, and observed that Jasmine was clutching at her scar on her left forearm.

      “What is it?” asked Anthony.

      “N-nothing.”

      The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Layla had gotten from Quirrell himself. She noticed how the teacher wasn't actually facing her or Jasmine, but she could feel the same type of darkness emanating from the back of the fidgety professor’s head.

   “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” Jasmine asked an upperclassman, Michael.

      “Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he’s looking so nervous, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to — everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.”

      Jasmine watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at her again.

  At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

      “Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

      “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

      Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

      “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

      “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

      “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Layla and Jasmine shared a glance. “He's asking for trouble.”, mouthed Jasmine.

“He’s not serious?” Anthony muttered to Michael, who was sitting across from him.

      “Must be,” said Michael, frowning at Dumbledore. “It’s odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere — the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least.”

      “And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed.

      Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

♪♪ Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
  Teach us something please,
  Whether we be old and bald
  Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
  With some interesting stuff,
  For now they’re bare and full of air,
  Dead flies and bits of fluff,
  So teach us things worth knowing,
  Bring back what we’ve forgot,
  just do your best, we’ll do the rest,
  And learn until our brains all rot. ♪♪

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

      “Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

The Ravenclaws first years followed the perfects through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Layla's legs were like wood again, but only because she was so tired and full of food. She was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the
corridors whispered and pointed (at Jasmine) as they passed, or that twice the perfects led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Layla was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

At the very end of the corridor was a door with an eagle's head for a knob.

“I'm made of beauty, I'm made of lies. When you come to find me, your soul will die.”, spoke the knob.

“A Sphinx?”, asked Terry Boot, unsure.

“No.”, answered the enchanted knob. The perfect gave the first years an apologetic look.

“The only way to enter the Common Room is if one can answer the riddle correctly. Anyone here who wants to give it a try?”

And try they did. The answers ranged from”gold” to”Phaedrus “, but Jasmine ultimately answered it right; “money “.

When the doors finally opened, the students were in for quite a treat — their common room. It was a wide, circular room with graceful arched windows that punctuated the walls which were hung with blue and bronze silks and a midnight blue carpet covered in stars, which was reflected onto the domed ceiling. The room was furnished with blue tables, chairs, and a divan. Next to the door leading up to the dormitories stood a tall statue of Rowena Ravenclaw made of white marble. There was also a niche somewhere in the room, which led to their own library.

“The boys’ dormitories are on the right, girls on the left.”, said the Head Girl, before she guided the girls up the stairs into the rooms.

Layla reached the dorms, which were on top of a spiral staircase. It offered a spectacular view of the Great Lake, and she was lucky enough to have her trunk placed at the foot of the four-poster bed closest to the window, which was draped in blue silk curtains. Jasmine's was right beside hers, and in between their beds was a lampshade table.

“Guess the four of us are roommates huh?”, said Padma, who was gesturing to Layla. Jasmine and Lisa Turpin also nodded their heads.

“Mhm. Hey Padma, did you —”

The girl had climbed into her bed and fell asleep. Layla sighed, then entered the bathroom to do her nighttime routine. When she emerged from the bathroom in her psle blue nightgown, only Jasmine was still awake, which was probably for the best.

“Did you feel that?”, came the question.

“…Yes.”, Layla replied. “Just so you'll know, it's not Snape.”.

She climbed into her own bed, prayed her rosary and tucked herself in, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching her from underground.