Yogwarts and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter Three

DISCLAIMER: We do not own the Yogscast. Nor do we own any of Harry Potter, and particularly not the words of the Sorting Hat’s Song, which have been copied exactly from Cat’s copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

Author’s Note: Hello! Long time no see! Is my fault… We’ll try and update more frequently but it’s getting close to exam season and considering we took what, six months (?), to update it when it wasn’t exam season, don’t expect anything too quickly.

That said, we hope you enjoy it and I (as I am writing the next chapter) will try my best to get something up soon ^^

leidineht and CatherineKat

Yogwarts and the Philosopher’s Stone

Chapter Three

The Sorting

Sjin

He had genuinely believed that there was nothing left in the magical world that could shock him anymore.  By the age of just eleven, he’d already seen magical parents disown or cause “accidents” for children who had no natural magical ability. He’d watched whole marble mansions, thousands of years old, get up and walk away on spindly legs that looked as though they couldn’t possibly be able to hold them up and had spent years in a nursery where his rocking chair told him stories and the lamp shade next to his bed sang him to sleep with lullabies.

But one should never say never and, stepping towards the huge wooden doors carved with images from the legends he’d grown up with, in a group of people who had their mouths as wide open as he imagined his might well be, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The whole building was lit up, he could hear hundreds of voices from behind the door, people clearly glad to be home, and he even glimpsed sight of a ghost, passing through one of the towers.

One of the boys he’d seen on the train, the dark haired one, and another, shorter, redheaded boy, both of whom appeared to be absolutely sopping wet, were explaining the tales to their three companions. While the girl in the ridiculous hat seemed to be entirely engrossed, the boy he assumed was her brother, wearing perfectly ludicrous goggles, was staring slightly angrily at a boy he felt he should recognise. The boy was tall and very slim, with really terrifying purple eyes. He was pointing at part of the door, explaining in much the same way the other group was,  and appeared to be attempting to calm the girl next to him down. Listening in, all that could be heard was:

“But, but, that’s a unicorn, isn’t it? I thought you said they were never seen!”

He smiled and turned back towards the entrance way, the boy’s name on the tip of his tongue. He’d almost got it when a sudden silence swept swiftly through the group.

Well… Almost. The short ginger boy (seriously, did the guy have dwarven blood or something? How could anyone be that short?) was still chattering away cheerfully to his friends, seemingly unaware of the extremely foreboding woman who’d appeared before them. His dark-haired friend noticed first and prodded the shorter one firmly.

“Simon… Shut up!”

The teacher, still standing beside them, began to speak and the boy quietened with a startled squeak.

Raising her eyebrows and casting a quick drying spell on the two of them,  she introduced herself as Professor McGonagall and began to explain what would happen to them next. They were to walk quietly into the Great Hall, behind her. Then they would line up along the side of the stage and wait for their name to be called.

He watched a small girl with a red flower in her hair follow Professor McGonagall through the door, before lining up in front of the girl with the stupid hat and her brother. They walked into the hall, past the tables full of so many students that he didn’t feel he’d ever be able to learn all their names. The Gryffindor table was certainly the rowdiest, a pair of ginger boys who looked so alike that he had to take a second look to make sure he wasn’t simply seeing double were yelling and calling to all the new first years. A boy next to them with the same colour hair appeared to be trying to make them be quiet and earned himself a nod from Professor McGonagall, still leading their crocodile towards the stage.