“Mind your heads!” Hagrid shouted again as they approached the cliff where the castle stood.
The boats carried them through a curtain covered in ivy and into a hidden underground dock, eventually coming to a stop inside a damp stone tunnel.
They disembarked and, guided by the light of Hagrid’s lantern, climbed the steps through the tunnel until they finally gathered before a massive oak door.
The door was decorated with intricate ironwork and gave off an air of ancient grandeur.
Hagrid raised his enormous fist and knocked three times on the castle’s main door.
The knocking echoed through the silence.
A moment later, the great door opened soundlessly.
Standing beyond it was a tall witch with a stern expression, square spectacles, and tightly pinned-up hair.
She wore emerald-green robes.
It was Professor Minerva McGonagall.
“The first-years are here, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I’ll take over from here.” Professor McGonagall’s voice was clear and firm.
She surveyed the group of first-years before her, who looked somewhat disheveled yet nervous and excited, her gaze measuring each one like a ruler.
When her eyes met Henry’s calm gaze, they paused for a moment before moving on.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said.
“The start-of-term feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats, we must first determine which house each of you will enter. The Sorting Ceremony is a very important ceremony because, during your time here, your house will be your home at Hogwarts…”
She began explaining the four houses and the rules governing the House Cup.
The first-years listened with bated breath, and nervousness began appearing on many of their faces again, especially after remembering their parents’ frightening stories about the trials they had supposedly faced when they entered the school.
Henry stood among the crowd, feeling the chill of the stone walls and the slight trembling of the other first-years around him.
He glanced at Hannah beside him.
She was clutching Susan’s sleeve tightly.
Susan was doing her best to maintain a composed expression, but her body was still trembling.
Justin seemed to have a little sweat beading on his forehead, though he was still trying to keep his back straight.
After Professor McGonagall finished explaining, she swept her eyes across the group again to make sure everyone had understood.
“Now, form a single line,” she ordered.
The first-years hurriedly shifted positions, doing their best to form a line that was not particularly straight.
Henry naturally stood behind Hannah and Susan, while Justin followed behind him.
The line slowly moved forward, following Professor McGonagall through the enormous entrance hall.
The entrance hall was astonishingly vast.
Torches blazed along the stone walls, and the ceiling was so high that its top was almost impossible to see.
Directly ahead stood a magnificent marble staircase leading upstairs.
But instead of taking them up, Professor McGonagall led them toward a small door on the other side of the hall.
From behind the enormous closed doors to their right came the buzzing murmur of hundreds of voices—the students from the other years had evidently already taken their seats inside.
The first-years were led into a small empty room beside the Great Hall.
It was much smaller than the entrance hall, and the tightly packed first-years seemed even more uneasy standing together.
They could hear the sounds from the Great Hall next door more clearly, which only heightened the tension.
Professor McGonagall briefly meowed…
said a few words before lowering her head and checking the list.
Just as she was nearing the end of the list, a small interruption occurred.
Around twenty pearly-white, translucent ghosts suddenly burst through the walls.
They drifted along while arguing about the ancient subject of “bloodline and privilege.” One rather plump ghost seemed to be complaining that some medieval ancestor had failed to leave him enough rights to the family’s cellar wine.
The first-years were thrown into disarray, and even Justin sucked in a sharp breath.
Hannah let out a quiet cry and grabbed Susan’s arm.
“New students!” exclaimed a ghost wearing a ruffled wheel collar and a tight-fitting outfit when he noticed them.
“Here to take the test, are you?”
“Hope you get into Hufflepuff!” said a kindly ghost dressed like a nun with a smile.
“I had the happiest years of my life there…”
“Get away, Peeves!” Professor McGonagall snapped.
She was not speaking to the friendly ghosts, but to a small ghost wearing a ridiculous hat who was preparing to throw a roll of waste paper at the first-years.
Peeves stuck out his tongue, giggled, and disappeared through the wall.
The other ghosts also nodded amicably toward the first-years before drifting through the opposite wall and entering the Great Hall, where the feast was taking place. The source of this chapter is novelping dot com.
“Now,” Professor McGonagall said after the ghosts had left, once again quieting the first-years, “line up properly. Once they’re ready, I’ll come and collect you. Remain quiet and straighten your appearance.”
The waiting seemed to stretch endlessly.
The sounds coming from the Great Hall seemed to grow quieter, perhaps because some sort of announcement or speech was taking place.
The first-years nervously glanced at one another, straightened their robes, and touched their hair.
A young boy with blond hair beside them cleared his throat, apparently trying to say something to ease the tension, but ultimately only whispered to the person beside him, “I wonder what kind of test it’ll be… My father said that back then…”
Just then, Professor McGonagall returned.
“Now, follow me.” Her expression was even more serious than before.
The first-years lined up and followed Professor McGonagall out of the small room, through the entrance hall, and toward the two enormous oak doors.
The doors were closed at the moment.
Professor McGonagall pushed one open just enough for herself to enter.
The first-years could not see what was inside, but they could feel countless eyes seemingly fixed on the doorway.
“Before you enter the Great Hall and face the entire student body and faculty,” Professor McGonagall turned to face the first-years, her voice clear and solemn, “I want you to remember that regardless of the outcome of your Sorting, you are all students of Hogwarts. Your words and actions represent not only yourselves but will also influence how others view the group to which you belong.”
Her calm gaze once again swept over everyone.
This time, Henry felt that she seemed to place an extra weight on the words “every one of you.”
Then she pushed the great doors completely open.
Brilliant golden light and warm air rushed toward them, making the first-years gasp.
Henry saw a magnificent hall filled with students seated at four long house tables.
Thousands of candles floated overhead, illuminating the hall as brightly as day, while the velvet-black ceiling shimmered with realistic stars.
At the far end of the hall stood another long table where the professors were seated.
At the center, Albus Dumbledore, wearing half-moon spectacles with silver hair and a silver beard, was smiling at the first-years standing in the doorway.
When his eyes met Henry’s, Dumbledore even raised a hand and waved to him.
Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the line of first-years.
Then she placed an old, filthy, patched, and battered pointed wizard’s hat on top of it.